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HORJl LYRICS AND DIVINE SONGS, 



ISAAC WATTS, 



WITH A MEMOIR, 



BY ROBERT SOUTHEY. 



BO?^TO]N^: 

LITTLE, B K W N AND C il P A N Y . 

>rEW YOKK: EVAISfS AND DICKEKSOX. 

PHILADELPHIA: LIPPINCOTT, GKAMBO AND CO. 

M.DCCC.LIV. 



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CONTENTS. 



Memoir of the Author xi 

Preface Ixxix 

HOE.E LYEICiE. 

BOOK I. SACRED TO DEVOTION A>!D RIETY. 

Page 

Worshipping with Fear 1 

Asking leave to Sing 3 

Divine Judgments 4 

Earth and Heaven 7 

Felicity Above 8 

God's Dominion and Decrees ^ 

Self Consecration 11 

The Creator and Creatures 13 

The Nati\ity of Christ 14 

God glorious, and Sinners saved 16 

The Humble Enquiry; a French Sonnet imitated 18 

The Penitent pardoned 19 

A Hymn of Praise for three great Salvations 20 

The Incomprehensible 24 

Death and Eternity 25 

A sight of Heaven in Sickness .... 27 

The Universal Hallelujah; Psalm cxMii. paraphrased... 29 

The Atheist's Mistake 31 

The LaAV given at Sinai S3 



IV CONTENTS. 

Page 

Remember your Creator, &c. ; Eccles. xii 39 

Sun, Moon, and Stars, praise ye the Lord 41 

The Welcome Messenger 42 

Shacere Praise 44 

True Learning: partly imitated from a French Sonnet — 46 

True Wisdom 48 

A Song to Creating Wisdom 51 

God's Absolute Dominion 54 

Condescending Grace; in imitation of Psalm cxiv 56 

The Lafinite 58 

Confession and Pardon 59 

Young men and maidens, old men and babes, praise ye 

the Lord 62 

Flying Fowl and creeping Things, praise ye the Lord ... 64 

The Comparison and Complaint 65 

God Supreme and Self-sufficient 67 

Jesus the only Saviour 68 

Looking Upward 71 

Christ dying, rising, and reigning 72 

The God of Thunder 73 

The Day of Judgment; an Ode attempted in English 

Sapphic 74 

The Song of Angels above 76 

Fire, Air, Earth, and Sea, praise ye the Lord 80 

The Farewell ' 82 

God only known to Himself 83 

Pardon and Sanctification 84 

Sovereignty and Grace 86 

The Law and Gospel 87 

Seeking a Divine Calm in a Restless World 88 

Happy Frailty 89 

Launching into Eternity 92 

A Prospect of the Resurrection 93 

Breathing Toward the Heavenly Country 95 

The Hundredth Epigram of Casimirc, on St. Ardalio. ... 96 

Latin Epigram of a French Jesuit, Englished 97 

Latin Answer, by a French Protestant, Englished 98 

Two Happy Rivals : Devotion and the Muse 9S 

The Hazard of Loving the Creatures 103 



CONTENTS. V 

Page 

Desiring to Love Chiist 104 

The Heart Given Away 106 

Meditation in a Grove 107 

The Fairest and the Only Beloved 108 

Mutual Love Stronger than Death ^ Ill 

A Sight of Christ 112 

Love on a Cross and a Throne 115 

A Preparatoiy Thought for the Lord's Supper 116 

Converse with Christ 118 

Grace Shining, and Nature Fainting 120 

Love to Christ, present or absent 123 

The Absence of Christ 124 

Desiring his Descent to Earth 126 

Ascending to Him in Heaven 127 

The Presence of God worth Dying for 128 

Longing for His Eeturn 180 

Hope in Darkness 131 

Come, Lord Jesus 133 

Bewailing my Own Liconstancy 135 

Forsaken, yet Hoping 137 

The Conclusion 139 



HOE^ LYmCM. 

BOOK II. SACRED TO VIRTUE, HONOR, AJsD FRIENDSHIP. 

To Her Majesty 141 

Palinodia, 145 

To John Locke, Esq 146 

To John Shute, Esq 147 

Friendship 148 

To Nathaniel Gould, Esq. . . ." 149 

The Life of Souls 151 

False Greatness _ 153 . 

An Epistle to Sarissa ; 154 

Paradise 157 

Strict Religion very Eare 160 



VJ CONTENTS. 

Page 

To Messrs. C. and S. Fleetwood 163 

Casimire, Lib. ii. Ode 2, imitated 165 

True Monarchy 16G 

True Courage 168 

Free Philosophy 170 

The Way of the Multitude 172 

To the Eev. Mr. John Howe 173 

The Disappointment and Relief 175 

The Hero's School of Morality 177 

Freedom 179 

On Mr. Locke's -Annotations upon several parts of the 

New Testament, left in JilS 181 

True Eiches 182 

The Adventurous Muse 185 

The Complamt 188 

The Afflictions of a Friend 190 

The Reverse : or, the Comforts of a Friend 191 , 

The Hardy Soldier 193 

Burning Several Poems of Ovid, Martial, &c 194 

Against Tears 196 

Few Happy Matches 197 

AnEpistle to David Polhill, Esq 200 

Translation from Casimire, with large Additions 201 

The Indian Philosopher 210 

The Happy Man 213 

An Answer to an Lifamous Satire, called " Advice to a 

Painter " 217 

To the Discontented and Unquiet 222 

To John Hartopp, Esq 225 

Happy SoUtude 227 

The Disdam 230 

To Mitio, my Friend; an Epistle 231 

Epigram of Martial to Cirinus 247 

Epigram on the Death of the Duke of Gloucester, just 

after Dryden 248 

To Mrs. Singer (afterwards Mrs. Eowe) 249 

To Lady Sunderland, at Tunbridge-Wells 250 



BOOK III. SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD. 

Page 

Epitaph on King William III. of Glorious Memory 252 

On the Sudden Death of Mrs. Mary Peacock 255 

To the Eev. Mr. John Shower, on the Death of his 

Daughter 256 

On the Death of an Aged and Honoured Kelative 261 

A Funeral Poem on the Death of Thomas Gunston, Esq. 264 
Elegy on the Eev. Mr. Thomas Gouge 282 



DIVINE SONGS, FOR CHILDEEN. 

Preface 295 

Song I. A General Song of Praise to God 298 

II. Praise to God for Creation and Providence 299 

III. Praise to God for Our Eedemption 300 

IV. Praise for Mercies Spiritual and Temporal 302 

V. Praise for Birth and Education in a Christian 

Land 303 

VI. Praise for the Gospel 304 

VII. The ExceUency of the Bible 305 

Vni. Praise to God for Learning to Eead 306 

IX. The AU-seeing God 308 

X. Solemn Thoughts of God and Death 309 

XL Heaven and HeU 310 

XII. The Advantages of Early Eeligion 311 

Xin. The Danger of Delay 312 

XIV. Examples of Early Piety 313 

XV. Against Lying 314 

XVI. Against Quarrelling and Fighting 316 

XVIL Love between Brothers and Sisters 317 

XVin. Against Scoffing and Calling Names 318 

XIX. Against Swearing and Cursing, and taking 

God's Name in Vain 319 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Page 
Song XX. Against Idleness and Mischiet 320 

XXL Against Evil Company 321 

XXn. Against Pride in Clothing 322 

XXm. Obedience to Parents 324 

XXIV. The Child's Complaint 325 

XXV. A Morning Song 326 

XXVI. An Evening Song 327 

XXVn. For the Lord's Day Morning 328 

XXVm. For the Lord's Day Evening 329 

The Ten Commandments, out of the Old Testament, put 

into short Rhyme for Children (Exod. xx.) 330 

The Sum of the Ten Commandments out of the New Tes- 
tament (Matt. sxii. 37) 330 

Our Saviour's Golden Rule (Matt. vii. 12) 331 

Duty to God and Our Neighbour 331 

The Hosanna: or, Salvation Ascribed to Christ 332 

Glory to the Father and the Son, &c 333 



^A SLIGHT SPECIMEN OF MORAL SONGS. 

Song L The Sluggard 337 

n. Innocent Play 338 

IIL The Rose 339 

IV. The Thief 340 

V^ The Ant, or Emmet 341 

VL Good Resolutions 343 

Vn. A Summer Evening 345 

A Cradle Hymn 346 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 



When Dr. Watts was urged by liis friends to 
leave behind him some memoirs from ^Yhich a 
history of his life might be composed, " he abso- 
lutely declined it, and desired that his character 
might stand in the world merely as it would appear 
in his works." It is indeed fully portrayed there, 
without varnish and without disguise. But it is 
pleasing to contemplate, in one view, the even 
tenour of a long life, innocently and industriously 
passed in uniform tranquillity and perfect content- 
ment. 

Isaac Watts, the eldest of nine children, was 
born at Southampton, July 17, 1674, and named 
after his father, who kept a boarding-school in 
that town. The persecution which the Church of 
England had undergone during the Great Rebel- 
lion, was then too recent to be forgotten by the 
nation, or forgiven by the clergy themselves ; for 
toleration is a principle which is seldom learnt by 
the persecuted. Mr. Watts was a decided non- 



; 



Xll MExMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

conformist ; and is described as a man of " lively 
devotion : " he was imprisoned on the score of his 
religion, and during his confinement, his wife often 
sat on a stone at the prison-door with this their 
child, then an infant at her breast. 

A book is said to have been the boy's greatest 
pleasure before he had well learnt to speak ; but 
this can only mean that, like all other children, he 
was amused by looking at prints, before he could 
read. His intellect, however, must have been 
dangerously precocious ; for we are told that *' he 
entered upon the study of the learned languages 
in his fourth year, at the free grammar-school of 
his native town, under the Rev. John Pinhorne, 
of whose ability and gentleness, as a schoolmaster, 
he always retained a grateful and affectionate 
remembrance." It is related of him that his chief 
pleasure was in books ; that the little money which 
he received in presents was applied to the grati- 
fication of this propensity ; that although remark- 
able for vivacity, he employed his leisure hours 
in reading instead of joining other boys at play ; 
and that when only seven or eight years old, he 
composed some devotional verses to please his 
mother. 

Here he made good progress in Latin and 
Greek, and commenced the study of Hebrew. 
His promising talents and his amiable disposition 
induced some generous persons in that vicinity to 
propose that he should be entered at one of the 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XIU 

English Universities, where they would support 
him ; but having been bred up a dissenter, he 
determined to remain one ; a determination to 
which, Avhat he had heard his mother relate of 
her sorrows during his own infancy, must no doubt 
greatly have contributed. In his sixteenth year, 
therefore, he was sent to an academy in London, 
kept by Mr. Thomas Eowe, at that time minister 
of the Independent meeting at Haberdashers' Hall ; 
and three years afterwards he joined in communion 
with that congregation. Among his fellow-students 
at this academy were Hort, afterwards Archbishop 
of Tuam ; Say, whose poems and essays were pub- 
lished after his death ; and Hughes, the author of 
the Siege of Damascus. Mr. Rowe said of him, 
that he never had occasion to reprove him, and 
that he often held him up as a pattern to his other 
pupils. 

He used to mark all the books he read, to 
abridge some of them, and annotate others, which 
were interleaved for that purpose. But he pur- 
sued his studies during three years with intem- 
perate ardour, allowing himself no time for needful 
exercise, and contracting his needful sleep ; and 
his constitution thus received irreparable injury. 
In 1694, he left the academy, and for the two fol- 
lowing years prosecuted his studies at his father's 
house, during which time the greater part of his 
hymns were composed, and probably most of his 
juvenile compositions. 



XIV MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

It seems to have been tliouglit remarkable that 
he did not enter upon the ministry immediately 
after completing his academical course. One of 
his biographers says : " The long silence of this ex- 
cellent and accomplished youth, as to the primary 
object of all his studies, the preaching of the gospel, 
affords considerable scope for conjecture. It is 
true he was but still a youth, diffident of himself, 
and deeply affected with the importance of the 
ministry, under a sense of his insufficiency, and 
trembling lest he should go to the altar of God 
uncalled. But after sixteen years spent in classi- 
cal studies, — after uncommon proficiency in other 
parts of learning connected with the work of the 
ministry, — with every qualification for the sacred 
office, — living at a time when his public services 
were peculiarly needed, and when he was known 
and spoken of as promising celebrity in whatever 
profession he might choose, — that with all these 
advantages he should continue in retirement, is a 
fact difficult to account for, and for which only 
his extreme diffidence can afford any apology." 
When it is remembered that Mr. Watts left the 
academy in his twentieth year, or soon after its 
completion, the diffidence which withheld him from 
hurrying into the pulpit should rather be held 
forth as an example, than represented as a weak- 
ness or a fault. Nor can there be any difficulty in 
accounting for it, even to those to whom such diffi- 
dence might appear extraordinary. He preached 



MEMOIR OP THE AUTHOR. XV 

his first sermon on the very day whereon he com- 
pleted his twenty-fourth year ; " probably consi- 
dering that as the day of a second nativity, by 
which he entered into a new period of existence ; " 
and in the mean time it is recorded of him, that 
he " applied himself to the study of the Scriptures, 
and to the reading of the best commentators, both 
critical and practical, preparatory to his under- 
taking the pastoral office, to which he was deter- 
mined to devote his life, and of the importance of 
which he had a deep sense upon his mind." 

Two years before Mr. Watts entered upon the 
ministry, he was invited by Sir John Hartopp, to 
reside in his family, at Stoke Newington, as tutor 
to his son. " I cannot," he says, " but reckon it 
among the blessings of Heaven, when I review 
those five years of pleasure and improvement, 
which I spent in his family in my younger part 
of life. And I found much instruction myself, 
where I w^as called to be an instructor." If he 
had not, as may all but literally be said, sucked 
in the principle of dissent at his mother's breast, 
this was a household in which of all others he 
would have been most likely to imbibe it. 

Lady Hartopp was the daughter of Fleetwood, 
not by Ireton's widow, but by his first wife, sole 
heiress of Thomas Smith, Esq., of Winston, in Nor- 
folk. The two families were doubly connected, 
Fleetwood's eldest son, Smith Fleetwood, having 
married the daughter of Sir Edward Hartopp ; 



XVI MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

brother and sister thus marrying aunt and nephew. 
In history, Fleetwood is known as one who was 
more remarkable for his ambition than his abili- 
ties ; but with the dissenters, in Dr. Watts's words, 
" his name is in honour among the churches," — 
and not undeservedly ; for that he was an amiable 
man in the relations of private life, seems certain ; 
and he gave proof of being a conscientious one, 
both in prosperity and in what to him were evil 
days. When fiscal persecution was carried to its 
worst height, the fine levied at Stoke Newington 
upon him. Sir John Hartopp, and others, (upon 
whom it is probable that but a small part of the 
burden fell,) amounted to six or seven thousand 
pounds. 

Lady Hartopp " affected retirement to such a 
degree," that Watts, when he preached her funeral 
sermon, said, " it would have placed her in a wrong 
light to have drawn out her virtues at length, and 
set them to public view." He therefore only in- 
terspersed a few hints of her eminent piety, as the 
text and argument led him into them. Sir John, 
who survived his lady ten years, and lived to the 
great age of eighty-five, was a person of sterling 
worth. He was three times, in Charles the Second's 
reign, returned to parliament for the county of 
Leicestershire. By him it was that many of 
Owen's sermons were preserved, and from him 
many of the materials for a life of Owen (with 
whom he had lived in habits of intimate friend- 



MEMOIR OP THE AUTHOR. XVll 

ship) were obtained : the sermons he had written 
down in short hand, according to his constant 
practice; "by which means," says Dr. Watts, 
" he often entertained his family in the evening 
worship, on the Lord's day, with excellent dis- 
courses, copied from the lips of some of the 
greatest preachers of the last age." On his death, 
"Watts preached the only funeral sermon which 
he ever concluded with a distinct and particular 
character of the deceased. We are there told, that 
" though he knew what was due to his quality in 
this world, yet he affected none of the grandeur 
of life, but daily practised condescension and love, 
and secured the respect of all without assuming a 
superior air ; " that " he shone with eminence 
among persons of birth and title, while his oblig- 
ing deportment and affable temper made him easy 
of access to his inferiors ; that his conversation 
was pious and learned, ingenious and instruc- 
tive ; " that " he was inquisitive into the affairs of 
the learned world, the progress of arts and sciences, 
the concerns of the nation, and the interest of the 
church of Christ ; " that " he had a taste for uni- 
versal learning; that ingenious arts were his 
delight from his youth, mathematical speculation 
and practice a favourite study in his younger 
years, and that even to his old age he maintained 
his acquaintance with the motions of the heavenly 
bodies." "But the Book of God was his chief 
study and his divinest delight. His Bible lay 



XVm MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

before him night and day ; and he was well ac- 
quainted with the writers that explained it best. 
He was desirous of seeing what the Spirit of God 
said to men in the original languages. For this 
end he commenced some acquaintance with He- 
brew when he was more than fifty years old; 
and that he might be capable of judging of the 
true sense of any text in the New Testament, he 
kept his youthful knowledge of the Greek language 
in some measure even to the period of his life." 
" His doors were ever open, and his carriage al- 
ways friendly and courteous, to the ministers of 
the gospel, though they were distinguished among 
themselves by names of different parties, for he 
loved all that loved our Lord Jesus Christ in sin- 
cerity." 

In this family IVIi-. Watts was happily situated 
and diligently employed ; and it was for the use 
of his pupil that he first drew up those rudiments 
which, at the repeated importunities of Mr. John 
Eames, the most learned of his friends, he after- 
wards enlarged and published, under the title of 
Logic, or the Right Use of Reason. The book 
has been received into the English Universities ; 
and Dr. Johnson says, " if he owes part of it to 
Le Clerc, it must be considered that no man who 
undertakes merely to methodize or illustrate a 
system, pretends to be the author." 

In 1798, the year of his first appearance in 
the pulpit, he was chosen assistant to Dr. Isaac 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XIX 

Chauncy, pastor of the Independent churcli, then 
meeting in Mark Lane ; and in January, 1701 — 2 
he accepted the invitation to succeed Dr. Chauncy 
in the pastoral office. That this acceptance was 
reluctantly given, and forced from him only by a 
sense of duty, appears by the terms in which it 
was expressed: 
" Brethren, 
" You know the constant aversion I have had 
to any proposals of a pastoral office, for these three 
years. You know also that since you have given 
me an unanimous call thereto, I have proposed 
several methods for your settlement without me ; 
but your choice and your affections seemed to be 
still unmoved. I have objected my own indisposi- 
tion of body ; and I have pointed to three divines, 
members of this church, whose gifts might render 
them more proper for instructors, and their age 
for government. These things I have urged till 
I have provoked you to sorrow and tears, and till 
I myself have been almost ashamed. But your 
perseverance in your choice, your constant pro- 
fession of edification by my ministry, the great 
probability you show me of building up this 
famous and decayed church of Christ, and your 
prevaihng fears of its dissolution if I refuse, have 
given me ground to believe that the voice of this 
church is the voice of Christ. And to answer 
this call I have not consulted with flesh and 
blood ; I have laid aside the thoughts of myself 



XX MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

to serve the interest of our Lord. I give up my 
own ease for your spiritual profit and your in- 
crease. I submit my inclination to my duty ; and 
in hopes of being made an instrument to build up 
this ancient church, I refurn this solemn answer 
to your call, — That with a great sense of my own 
inability in mind and body t6 discharge the duties 
of so sacred an office, I do, in the strength of 
Christ, venture upon it ; and in His name I accept 
your call, promising, in the presence of God and 
his saints, my utmost diligence in all the duties 
of a pastor, so far as God shall enlighten and 
strengthen me. And I leave that promise in the 
hands of Christ our Mediator, to see it performed 
by me unto you, through the assistance of his 
grace and Spirit." 

Soon after his entrance upon this charge he was 
seized with a dangerous illness ; which, after long 
confinement and a slow recovery, left him with a 
constitution so evidently impaired, that the congre- 
gation thought an assistant necessary, and accord- 
ingly, in July, 1703, appointed Mr. Samuel Price 
to assist him. Gradually, however, he recovered 
strength, and continued to officiate during some 
years with no material interruption; another ill- 
ness then brought him to the brink of the grave ; 
and when the fever was subdued, a nervous debi- 
lity remained which for some years entirely inca- 
pacitated him for the functions of his office. Days 
were set apart by his congregation for prayers 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXI 

for his recovery, and many of his brethren in the 
ministry united in these supplications, " as men 
deeply impressed with the importance of his life." 
It was necessary, however, that his place should 
be supplied, even when their prayers were so far 
answered as to remove any apprehension of a 
fatal termination; and by his own desire Mr. 
Price was elected to be joint pastor with him. 
This illness proved in its consequences the most 
important and most fortunatate event of his life. 
Sir Thomas Abney invited him to try the effect 
of change of air, at his house at Theobalds : 
thither Watts went, intending to stay there but 
a single week, and there he remained six-and- 
thirty years, which was as long as he lived. 

" Here," says his first biographer, Dr. Gibbons, 
'' he enjoyed the uninterrupted demonstrations of 
the truest friendship. Here, without any cares of 
his own, he had every thing which could contribute 
to the enjoyment of life, and favour the unwearied 
pursuits of his studies. Here he dwelt in a family 
which, for piety, order, harmony, and every virtue, 
was a house of God. Here he had the privilege 
of a country recess, the fragrant bower, the spread- 
ing lawn, the flowery garden, and other advan- 
tages to soothe his mind, and aid his restoration to 
health ; to yield him, whenever he chose them, 
most grateful intervals from his laborious studies, 
and enable him to return to them with redoubled 
vigour and delight. Had it not been for this 



XXU ME3I0IR OF THE AUTHOR. 

happy event, he might, as to outward view, have 
feebly, it may be painfully, dragged on through 
many more years of languor and inability for 
public service, and even for profitable study ; or 
perhaps might have sunk into his grave, under 
the overwhelming load of infirmities, in the midst 
of his days ; and thus the church and the world 
would have been deprived of those many excel- 
lent sermons and works which he drew up and 
published during his long residence in this family. 
In a few years after his coming hither, Sir Thomas 
Abney dies ; but his amiable consort survives, who 
shows the Doctor the same respect and friendship 
as before : and most happily for him, and great 
numbers besides, (for as her riches were great, 
her generosity and munificence were in full pro- 
portion,) her thread of life was drawn out to a 
great age, even beyond that of the Doctor's. And 
thus this excellent man, through her kindness, and 
that of her daughter, Mrs. Elizabeth Abney, who 
in a like degree esteemed and honoured him, en- 
joyed all the benefits and felicities he experienced 
at his first entrance into this family, till his days 
were numbered and finished, and, like a shock of 
corn in its season, he ascended into the regions of 
perfect and immortal life and joy." 

Thus was Mr. Watts adopted into a family 
which loved him for his personal qualities, ad- 
mired him for his genius, and revered him for 
his piety. On their side there was no pride of 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXIU 

patronage, on his there was no uneasy feeling of 
dependence. The bond between them was that 
of entire confidence and esteem, and their mutual 
regard was heightened on one part by the delight 
which they experienced in making him happy, on 
the other, by a full and grateful sense of their 
constant kindness. A happier situation for one 
who had made up his mind to celibacy could not 
be imagined; and such a determination in his 
case had, no doubt, been early formed, when he 
became aware, that by intemperance in his youth- 
ful studies his constitution had been irretrievably 
injured ; that his life was rendered in consequence 
more than ordinarily precarious, and that at best 
he could never hope to be any thing better than a 
valetudinarian. He was exempt from all the ordi- 
nary cares of life, and enabled at perfect leisure 
to employ himself in the way which he deemed, 
as it was really, most useful, and which was most 
in conformity as well with his own inclinations as 
with his sense of duty. 

Sir Thomas Abney had been bred up in dis- 
senting principles. King William knighted him, 
and he served the office of lord mayor of London 
in 1700. It is related of him, as an evidence of 
his piety, that on what may be called his own day, 
" he withdrew silently after supper from the pub- 
lic assembly at Guildhall, went to his own house, 
performed family worship there, and then returned 
to the company." His first wife was the daughter 



XXIV MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

of Caryl, whose commentary on Job it may be 
deemed a most unquestionable proof of patience 
in any person to have perused. Sir Thomas was 
well stricken in years when he married, in the 
year of his mayoralty, his second wife, — the sis- 
ter of Mr. Gunston, to whose " dear memory," 
as a much-honoured friend, Watts had inscribed 
a poem. Their house at Theobalds adjoined the 
site of the palace which Burleigh erected for his 
own residence, and where he so often entertained 
Ehzabeth and her court. Part of a wall was 
believed to be the only vestige remaining of that 
palace, where James received the homage of the 
lords of the council when he came to take posses- 
sion of the kingdom, — and from whence he was 
carried to his grave. It was demohshed by the 
long parliament, in disregard of the opinion ex- 
pressed by their own commissioners, that it was 
an " excellent building, in very good repair, by 
no means fit to be demolished ; " but the mate- 
rials were valued at more than 8,000^.; and in 
the destructive spirit of revolutionary times, this 
was sufficient motive for its demolition. The 
gardens, in the days of its splendour, were of great 
extent ; their labyrinths and fountains had disap- 
peared, and the " nine knots artificially and ex- 
quisitely made, one of which was set , forth in 
Mkeness of the king's arms." But there remained 
a long moss-walk, overshadowed by two rows of 
elm-trees ; and within a few yards of the entrance 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXV 

of that walk there stood in Sir Thomas Abney*s 
garden, a summer-house, which fifty years after 
Watts's death was shown as the place in which 
he had composed many of his works. The win- 
dows of that summer-house looked to Theobalds' 
park, over a large fish-pond, which probably had 
been made in Burleigh's time. During Watts's 
life even Stoke Newington had more of a rural 
than suburban character ; but Theobalds was 
completely a country retirement. London had 
not travelled in that direction beyond Shoreditch 
church ; it now extends far beyond Cheshunt, on 
the road to Ware; and the angler who should 
take Izaak Walton for his guide, would find every 
thing as much altered, — and as little for the bet- 
ter, — as the hostesses who knew so well then how 
to dress a chub after Piscator's receipt, and the 
milk-maids whose memories were stored with such 
choice of good old songs. 

Mr. Watts's usefulness among his flock was in 
no degree diminished by his residence at Theo- 
balds. It was easy for him, when his health per- 
mitted, to officiate in London. There was a car- 
riage at his command, and the family with which 
he was domesticated being of his own persuasion, 
were as much interested in this point as himself. 
If he was disabled by indisposition, there was no 
cause for uneasiness on that account ; his colleague, 
with whom he always maintained the most unin- 
terrupted friendship, was on the spot to supply 



XXVI MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

his place. "When he was incai^able of public 
labour, he refused to receive his salary, and at 
all times a third part of his income was devoted 
to charitable uses. In this there was no sacrifice, 
seeing that all his wants were provided for ; but 
it was proof of a disposition which would have 
made any sacrifice from the same motives of love 
towards God and his fellow-creatures. 

Perhaps the peculiar position in which he was 
placed increased both the respect and the affection 
with which his congregation regarded him. It 
made him independent of them ; and they looked 
upon him not in the light of a dependent upon 
the wealthy family with which he was domesti- 
cated, nor as a humble friend, but as what in 
reality he was, one of its members, adopted into 
it by the special friendship of one of the wealthiest 
and most considerable persons attached to the dis- 
senting cause. Indeed, if Sir Thomas Abney 
appeared to them in the same light as he did to 
Mr. Watts, they must have thought him not only 
one of the best, but also one of the greatest men 
in the nation. 

" He had the universal respect due to good- 
ness," says his eulogist, " long before he was 
made great: and when his fellow-citizens voted 
him into jjower and honour, he surveyed the pro- 
vince with a just reluctance, and shrunk away 
from grandeur ; nor could any thing overcome 
his sincere aversion, but a sense of duty and hopes 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXVU 

of public service. He passed tlu-ough the chief 
offices of the city, and left a lustre upon them by 
the practise of such virtue and such piety as the 
chair of honour has seldom known. Those who 
have attended that court since the year of his 
magistracy search the register backwards for 
twenty annual successions, and confess he has 
had no rival. While he stood in that eminence, 
he surveyed the whole nation, took a just view 
of its wants and its dangers ; and by the divine 
blessing which his daily retirements engaged on 
his side, he secured the nation's best interest, the 
exclusion of a child of Rome from the throne 
of England, and the succession of a protestant 
government. 

" At the appointed season he resigned with 
pleasure the fatigues of power, the tiresome hours 
of state, and the tedious train of pomp and equi- 
page ; but he daily fulfils the duties of subordinate 
authority, to the terror of vice, to the support of 
the good, and to the reformation of a sinful land. 
He vindicates the poor with courage against the 
oppression of the mighty, and sends gay criminals 
to the place of correction. He puts the rich offend- 
ers to public shame, as well as the poor, and he 
doth it with a noble security of soul : so spotless 
a character fears no recrimination. 

" When the days of public show and procession 
return, he hides himself often at his country seat, 
and makes every trifling obstacle a sufficient ex- 



XXVlll MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

cuse for his absence from honours, scarlet and 
gold. But none so zealous and constant in their 
attendance on the hours of business ; and at the 
honourable board there is no seat empty so sel- 
dom as his. Neither gain nor diversion can tempt 
him aside when the duty of his post requires his 
presence and the public weal demands his coun- 
sels. His health, his ease, and his estate, are at 
the call of his country ; his life lies ready too for 
the same service ; but his nation gives thanks to 
Providence that has not demanded the precious 
sacrifice." 

There ig a great want of taste in this high-swoln 
panegyric ; but it presents Sir Thomas Abney in 
the light in which the author and that fraction of 
the community which constituted his public, be- 
held him, without literally believing that the pro- 
testant succession was established by him, when 
lord mayor of London. He was a person whose 
character supported the respect which his station 
and wealth obtained for him: and some part of 
that respect was reflected upon Mr. Watts. More- 
over, the congregation felt that in continuing his 
services to them as far as his feeble health would 
permit, he conferred upon them a favour and a 
kindness which could not be imputed to any motive 
of interest, or even of his own convenience, but 
proceeded from his sense of duty, his zeal in the 
dissenting cause, and his attachment to them; 
they prized them therefore, as they ought, the 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXIX 

more highly. And they were proud of his grow- 
ing reputation, for he was then the best preacher 
among the dissenters, and one of the best of those 
times. Not that his sermons can be placed in the 
first, or even second rank of such compositions ; 
but they were well adapted to the great purpose 
of present effect ; and they had all the advantages 
that could be given them by an impressive elocu- 
tion, and a manner of delivery which with curious 
felicity seems to have been at the same time elabo- 
rately studied, yet earnestly sincere. 

" I hate," said he, " the thoughts of making 
any thing in religion, heavy or tiresome." In 
another place he ventures to say, that perhaps 
the modes of preaching in the best churches still 
want some degree of reformation ; — that reform- 
ation he endeavoured to bring about in his own. 
" Suppose two preachers," he says, " were desired 
to minister to the same auditory, on a day of fast- 
ing or praise, and on the same subject too. One 
of them has all the beauty, force, and skill of clear 
and calm reasoning ; the other not only instructs 
well, but powerfully moves the affections with 
sacred oratory. Which of these two will best 
secure the attention of the people, and guard them 
from drowsiness or wandering ? Surely, he that 
touches the heart, will fix the eyes and the ears 
and all the powers ; while he that merely endea- 
vours to inform the head, will find many wander- 
ing eyes, and some sleepers." 



XXX MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

In another sermon upon the same subject, " The 
Use of the Passions in Religion," he exclaims, 
" Does divine love send dreaming preachers to 
call dead sinners to life, — preachers that are con- 
tent to leave their hearers asleep on the precipice 
of eternal destruction ? Have they no such thing 
as passion belonging to them? Have they no 
piety ? Have they no fear ? Have they no sense 
of the worth of souls ? Have they no springs of 
affection within them ? — Or do they think their 
hearers have none ? — Or is passion so vile a 
power that it must be all devoted to things of 
flesh and sense, and must never be applied to 
things divine and heavenly ? Who taught any 
of us this lazy and drowsy practice ? Does God 
or his prophets, or Christ or his apostles, instruct 
us in this modish art of still life, this * lethargy 
of preaching ? ' Did the great God ever appoint 
statues for his ambassadors, to invite sinners to 
his mercy ? "Words of grace written upon brass 
or marble, would do the work almost as well ! — 
How cold and dull and unaffected with divine 
things, is mankind by nature ! — How careless and 
indolent is a whole assembly, when the preacher 
appears like a lifeless engine, pronouncing words 
of law or grace, when he speaks of divine things 
in such a dry, in such a cold and formal manner, 
as though they had no influence on his own heart ! 
When the words freeze upon his lips, the hearts 
of hearers are freezing also." 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXXI 

In an ordination sermon he warned the aspirant 
student against the fault which would most easily 
beset him. "Do not say within yourself, how 
much or how elegantly I can talk upon such a 
text ; but what can I say most usefully to those 
who hear me, for the instruction of their minds, 
for the correction of their consciences, and for 
the persuasion of their hearts ? Be not fond of 
displaying your learned criticisms in clearing up 
the terms and phrases of a text, when scholars 
only can be edified by them ; nor spend away the 
precious moments of the congregation, in making 
them hear you explain what is clear enough be- 
fore, and hath no need of explaining ; nor in prov- 
ing that which is so obvious that it needs no proof. 
This is little better than trifling with God and man. 
Think not, how can I make a sermon correct and 
earnest, but how I can make the most profitable 
sermon for my hearers : — not what fine things I 
can say, either in a way of criticism or philosophy, 
or in a way of oratory or harangue ; but what 
powerful words I can speak to impress the con- 
sciences of those that hear with a serious and 
lasting sense of moral, divine and eternal things. 
Judge wisely what to leave out, as well as what 
to speak. Let not your chief design be to work up 
a sheet, or to hold out an hour, but to save a soul." 

In another part of the same exhortation, he 
says, " Get the substance of your sermon which 
you have prepared for the pulpit, so wrought into 



XXXU MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

your head and heart, by reason and meditation, 
that you may have it at command, and speak to 
your hearers with freedom ; not as if you were 
reading or repeating your lesson to them, but as 
a man sent to teach and persuade them to faith 
and holiness. Deliver your discourses to the 
people like a man that is talking to them in good 
earnest about their most important concerns, and 
their everlasting welfare — like a messenger sent 
from heaven, who would fain save sinners from 
hell, and allure souls to God and happiness. Do 
not indulge that lazy way of reading over your 
prepared paper, as a schoolboy does an oration 
out of Livy or Cicero, who has no concern in the 
things he speaks. But let all the warmest zeal 
for God, and compassion for perishing men, ani- 
mate your voice and countenance ; and let the 
people see and feel, as well as hear, that you are 
speaking to them about things of infinite moment, 
and on which your own eternal interest lies as 
well as theirs. 

" If you pray and hope for the assistance of the 
Spirit of God in every part of your works, do not 
resolve always to confine yourself precisely to the 
mere words and sentences which you have written 
down in your private preparations. Far be it 
from me to encourage a preacher to venture into 
public work without due preparation by study, 
and a regular composure of his discourse. We 
must not serve God with what cost us nothing. 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXXUl 

All our wisest thoughts and cares are due to the 
sacred service of the temple. But what I mean 
is, that we should not impose upon ourselves just 
such a number of precomposed words and lines 
to be delivered in the hour, without daring to 
speak a warm sentiment that comes fresh upon 
the mind. Why may you not hope for some live- 
ly turns of thought, some new pious sentiments 
which may strike light and heat, and life into the 
understandings and hearts of those that hear you ? 
In the zeal of your ministrations, why may you 
not expect some bright and warm and pathetic 
forms of argument and persuasion to offer them- 
selves to your lips, for the more powerful convic- 
tion of sinners, and the encouragement and com- 
fort of humble Christians ? Have you not often 
found such an enlargement of thought, such a 
variety of sentiment and freedom of speech, in 
common conversation upon an important subject, 
beyond what you were apprised of beforehand? 
And why should you forbid yourself this natural 
advantage in the pulpit, and in the fervour of 
sacred ministrations, when also you have more 
reason to hope for divine assistance ? " 

Whitefield appears to have followed Dr. Watts's 
advice in this respect, and to have owed to it, in 
great measure, his extraordinary success as a 
preacher; for in his printed sermons there are 
none of those sparks of fancy or flashes of imagi- 
nation, none of those bursts of oratory, none of 
c 



XXXIV MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

that eloquence, true or false, with which he is 
known to have enlivened what in the dead letter 
every reader feels to be poor and dull discourses. 
Watts himself preached upon the plan which he 
advised; he wrote, it is said and committed to 
memory the leading features of his cursory ser- 
mons ; the rest he trusted to his extemporary power 
and the promised assistance of the Holy Spirit. 
But it is not likely that, as in Whitefield's case, 
the better portion of Watts's sermons (if the ex- 
temporaneous parts were the better) has evapo- 
rated. He prepared them for the press as well 
as for the pulpit: much therefore of what had 
been introduced in delivery, his own memory, we 
may be sure, would retain ; and as the practice 
of taking notes from a distinguished preacher was 
at that time not unusual, it is probable that in this 
way, by which so many of Owen's sermons were 
preserved by Sir John Hartopp, his recollection 
may have been assisted. 

Dr. Johnson has observed that " his low stature, 
which very little exceeded five feet, graced him 
with no advantage of appearance in the pulpit ; " 
but the pulpit is a place in which that defect could 
entirely be supplied, and where the feebleness of 
his form and figure would be least perceived, 
while his benign countenance, and strong eye, and 
animated manner, produced their full effect. His 
friend, Dr. Gibbons, once asked him if he did not 
sometimes find himself too much awed by his 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXXV 

auditory ; " lie replied, that when such a gentle- 
man of eminent abilities and learning had come 
into the assembly and taken his eye, he felt some- 
thing like a momentary tremour ; but that he re- 
covered himself by remembering what God said 
to the prophet Jeremiah, ^Be not dismayed at 
their faces, lest I confound thee before them.' " 
It was little likely that he should be confounded, 
deservedly popular as he was in his own sphere, 
and properly conscious of his own power, and 
carefully as he had studied both the arts of com- 
position and delivery. " I once mentioned," says 
Dr. Johnson, " the reputation which Mr. Foster 
had gained by his proper delivery to my friend 
Dr. Hawkesworth, who told me, that in the art of 
pronounciation he was far inferior to Dr. Watts." 
The correctness of his^ pronunciation, and the 
elegance of his diction, are said to have contri- 
buted greatly to his uncommon popularity as a 
preacher. It was doubtless as much from feel- 
ing, as for the sake of oratorical effect, that he 
always paused at the conclusion of any weighty 
sentence ; this gave a solemnity to his words, and 
allowed time for the impression to be deeply and 
strongly fixed. 

1 Some curious instances of the change to which this is 
subject, appears in Dr. Watts's " Table of proper Names, 
written very different from the Pronunciation;" whereby it 
appears that Esther was in his time pronounced jBotsfe/*, Sarah 
Sarey, St. Paul's Church, PoWs^ and Guildhall, EeMhall. 



XXXVl 3IEM0IR OF THE AUTHOR. 

His sermons are so long, that in printing them 
he almost always inserted a notice about the mid- 
dle of each, that it might conveniently be divided 
there. What he suspected might be found too 
long for reading, he would probably have thought 
too long for preaching, if custom Jiad not then 
exacted long measure in such discourses. " We are 
not called," said he, preaching on the observance 
of Sunday, " to draw out the duties of worship 
to such unreasonable and tiresome lengths ; nor 
to be so incessant and uninterrupted in works of 
religion on this day, as would overmuch fatigue 
the spirits, and overpress animal nature. This 
does not tend to the edification of men or the 
honour of God ; but it has a certain and evident 
tendency to prejudice younger persons against the 
observation of the Lord's-day, if we render the 
service of it too irksome and tedious." 

On the observance of the Sabbath, Dr. Watts's 
opinion was reasonable and tolerant. After show- 
ing that under the Jewish dispensation no works 
of necessity or of mercy were forbidden on that 
day, he says : " Under the New Testament we 
have no strict and severe prohibitions of every 
care and labour in the common return of the 
Lord's-day, where they do not interfere with the 
primary design of it, that is, the worship of God, 
and our best improvement thereby. And there- 
fore I say, when the necessary labours of a few 
on some part of the day, by providing food and 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXXVll 

other conveniences of life, render many more 
persons capable of spending the day in religion, 
I cannot find that the New Testament forbids it. 
I say in some part of the Lord's-day, for I think 
none ought to be so constantly employed in secular 
affairs as to exclude the whole day from its proper 
business, that is, religion or devotion, except in 
the cases of necessity, above mentioned. I think it 
may be maintained in general, that, as whatsoever 
tends to destroy or nullify the great design of reli- 
gious worship should be omitted on the Lord's- 
day, so some lesser labours, which tend to make 
the performances of religion more easy, cheerful, 
and regular to ourselves, and to great numbers of 
others, may safely b& performed on this day with- 
out a wilful violation of it." And having premised 
that, as he would not bind new burdens on the 
servants of Christ, so neither would he release 
what Christ has bound, he concludes that, " ac- 
cording as our constitution is more or less healthy, 
or our circumstances in the world, as servants or 
masters, as poor or rich, call us more or less to 
necessary works on this day, so we are to employ 
ourselves in the affairs of religion at such hours, 
and with such intervals of relief and refreshment, 
as that the sabbath of the Lord may be a pleasure 
to us, and may not overtax feeble nature, instead 
of giving it rest. We should all employ this day 
to the designs and ends appointed, to the honour 
of God and our risen Saviour ; not with peevish 



XXXVlll MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

rigour and superstitious abstinences — not in in- 
dulgences of the flesh and lazy idleness, — not in 
sport5 and pastimes, — but with Christian wisdom 
improve our time for religious purposes, according 
to our capacities and stations ; knowing that we 
are in a state of gospel liberty, freed from a state 
and spirit of bondage, and rejoicing in the Lord, 
our deliverer and Saviour." 

This is entirely in accord with the gentle spirit 
of moderation and benevolence that pervades all 
his works. Johnson admired his meekness of 
opposition, and his mildness of censure in his 
theological writings ; and observes that orthodoxy 
was united with charity not only in his works, but 
in his mind. Charity, indeed, in its full Christian 
sense, was one of his favourite themes. " I find 
a strange pleasure," he says, " in discoursing of 
this virtue, hoping that my very soul may be 
moulded into its divine likeness. I would always 
feel it inwardly warming my heart ; I would have 
it look through my eyes continually, and it should 
be ever ready upon my lips to soften every ex- 
pression of my tongue ; I would dress myself in 
it as my best raiment ; I would put it on upon my 
faith and hope, not so as entirely to hide them, 
but as an upper and more visible vesture, con- 
stantly to appear in among men. For our Chris- 
tian charity is to evidence our other virtues." 

So completely was he conformed to this Chris- 
tian temper, that even when engaged in contro- 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXXIX 

versy he seems never to have been provoked to 
any angry feeling, nor tempted to an uncharitable 
one. When an opponent had assumed an over- 
bearing manner towards him, and affected a tone 
of triumph to which he was little entitled, Dr. 
Watts, though he perceived that men were too 
easily carried away by such assumption of supe- 
riority, and that he who places himself in the seat 
of the scorner, never fails to find servile admirers, 
could not prevail upon himself to adopt a manner 
of writing so contrary to his own principles and 
disposition, even though he might have gained by it 
a temporary success for the great truths in behalf 
of which he was engaged. He felt himself not 
only indisposed but unqualified for it. " David," 
he said, " might better bear Saul's armour than he 
could enter into such a manner of dispute." 

It was in this spirit of charity, and not in any 
loose latitude of opinion, that he said, " I am per- 
suaded there is a breadth in the narrow road 
to Heaven, and persons may travel more than 
seven abreast in it." That spirit led him to 
declare his persuasion that heathens and sava- 
ges, who never heard of the gospel, are not left 
to perish unavoidably without any hope, or any 
grace to trust in ; but if there be found among 
them any who fear God and work righteousness, 
they shall be accepted of Him, through an un- 
known Mediator, as Cornelius was. It led him 
to entertain a curious opinion concerning the souls 



Xl MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

of those wlio die in infancy. The execrable no- 
tion that they are condemned to eternal punish- 
ment for their portion of original sin, he utterly 
rejected ; and the fancy of a Limbo, which some 
Protestants had been willing to adopt from the 
figments of the Romish church, seemed to him as 
neither supported by Scripture, nor maintain- 
able by reason. Rather than condemn them to a 
wretched resurrection for the purpose of being 
condemned, he would have chosen to believe in a 
metempsychosis, and that the soul on its early 
separation from one body entered into another, 
in which it might go through that state of trial 
on which its eternal destiny might equitably de- 
pend. But in his judgment it was more likely, 
as more consonant with Scripture, that they under- 
went, in its strict and final sense, the penalty of 
temporal death denounced against all the race of 
Adam; and that there was no resurrection ap- 
pointed for them. "This hypothesis," he says, 
not only absolves the providence of God from 
supposed cruelty, but perhaps it represents it as 
good and gracious towards far the greatest part of 
those that are born of Adam ; while they are not 
suffered to live and grow up amidst the tempta- 
tions of this world, and under their present corrupt 
principles of nature, but are precluded from ren- 
dering themselves more miserable by being cut 
off in infancy." " The Scripture having never, 
in any text that I can find, foretold the resurrec- 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. xli 

tion or judgment of the infants of sinful parents, 
and having pronounced the word death only as 
the penalty of Adam's sin, or their interest in it, 
and denounced the final judgment and eternal 
misery only against actual sinners, there is abun- 
dant reason to believe that God has knowingly 
and wisely appointed and ordained all these things, 
so that his providence might be secure from all 
charges of cruelty and injustice. And perhaps 
this hypothesis, which I have here proposed, is 
nothing else but these very appointments and 
transactions of God set in their proper scriptural 
light, to guard his providence from censure." 

The treatise in which this hypothesis was ad- 
vanced contains two opinions, one of which is per- 
haps peculiar to Dr. Watts, and both are charac- 
teristic of him. Born and bred a Calvinist, after 
the " most strictest sect " of that persuasion, it 
was not to be expected that he should easily re- 
sign for himself the high privilege of his predes- 
tination, still less that they within whose circle he 
was circumscribed, who considered themselves, as 
they have seriously been called, to be Icings incog. 
upon earth, should consent to have the entail of 
their crowns cut off and take only the common lot 
of inheritance with other men. That he and they 
were by indefeasible election assured of salvation, 
was what he could willingly and joyfully believe ; 
but his understanding, his tenderness for his fel- 
low-creatures, and his piety made him shrink from 



xlii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

what had ever been held as a consequeut article 
of the same creed, that the other and far greater 
part of the human race were, by an equally iiTe- 
vocable decree, predoomed to sin and wrath and 
everlasting punishment. " Surely," says he, " the 
Lord Jesus would never be sent in flaming fire to 
render vengeance on those that obey not the gos- 
pel/ if there was no sufficient salvation provided 
in that gospel which commands them to receive 
it." Can we think that the righteous Judge of 
the world will merely send words of grace and 
salvation amongst them, on purpose to make his 
creatures so much the more miserable, when there 
is no real grace to salvation contained in those 
words for them who refuse to receive it ? " " It 
is very hard to suppose, that when the word of 
God, by the general commands, promises, threat- 
enings, given to all men whatsoever, and often 
repeated therein, represents mankind as in a state 
of probation, and in the way towards eternal re- 
wards or eternal punishments, according to their 
behaviour in this life, — I say it is hard to sup- 
pose all this should be no real and just repre- 
sentation, but a mere amusement ! that all these 
proposals of mercy and displays of the gracious 
dealings of God, should be an enpty show, with 
regard to all the millions of mankind, besides the 
few that are chosen to happiness ! and that they 

• 1 2 Thess. i. 8, 9. 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. xliii 

should really be so fixed in a wretched, hopeless, 
and deplorable state, under the first sin of the 
first man, that they are utterly irrecoverable from 
the ruins of it ! " 

It is easier to get into a labyrinth than to find 
the way out of it. Watts thought to solve the 
difficulty by rejecting the doctrine of reprobation, 
while he retained that of election, and maintaining 
that salvation was absolutely secured for the elect, 
and conditionally provided for any others who 
chose to accept it ; so that all might be saved, 
though there were but few who inevitably must. 
His mind was more remarkable for subtlety than 
strength ; yet if he had not been deeply imbued 
with a tenet which, of all others, is the most flat- 
tering to the pride of those who think themselves 
included in the charter, he could not have sup- 
posed that by such a compromise he could '* vin- 
dicate the ways of God to man." The way in 
which he treats the subject, however, shows his 
own amiable disposition, and at the same time 
discovers the spirit with which some of those to 
whom he addressed himself were possessed. " The 
doctrine of reprobation," says he, " in the most 
severe and absolute sense of it, stands in such a 
direct contradiction to all our notions of kindness 
and love to others, in which the blessed God is 
set forth as an example, that our reason cannot 
tell how to receive it. Yet if it were never so 
true, and never so plainly revealed in Scripture, 



Xliv MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

it could only be a doctrine which might require 
our humble assent, and our silent submission to it, 
with awful reverence of the majesty and sove- 
reignty of the great God. But it is by no means 
a doctrine in which we, as men, could or should 
rejoice and glory, or take pleasure in it ; because 
it hath so dreadful an aspect on far the greatest 
part of our fellow-creatures, cansidered as mere 
creatures. Nor do I think the blessed God would 
require us so far to divest ourselves of humanity, 
as to take a secret satisfaction in the absolute 
and eternal appointment of such numbers of our 
kindred in flesh and blood, to everlasting perdi- 
tion ; much less should we make this awful and 
terrible article a matter of our public boast and 
triumph, even if we could prove it to be reveal- 
ed, — but rather mourn for it. And since there 
are so many expressions of Scripture that give us 
reason to think that Christ lived and died in some 
respects as a common Mediator of mankind, though 
with a peculiar regard to the elect, methinks this 
doctrine of the extensive goodness of God, is a 
much more desirable opinion, and should be more 
cheerfully received by us, as it is so agreeable to 
our duty of charity to all men, and seems so neces- 
sary to us at present, for vindicating the justice, 
goodness, and sincerity of the blessed God, in his 
transactions with mankind. When, therefore, I 
hear men talk of the doctrine of reprobation with 
a special gust and relish, as a favourite, I can- 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. xlv 

not but suspect their good temper, and question 
whether they love their neighbour as they do 
themselves." 

The redemption of the elect, and of those who 
not being predestined to salvation, had neverthe- 
less acquired it by their acceptance of the offered 
grace, Dr. Watts extended to their infants, ex- 
empting them from that annihilation, or transmi- 
gration, one of which, in his opinion, would be the 
lot of the infants of the unrighteous. He thought 
it agreeable to the law of nature and creation, that 
they who by reason of their infancy, were utterly 
incapable of knowing either the laws of God, or 
the discoveries and proposals of his mercy, should 
be esteemed a part of their parents, or one with 
them, as to all the purposes of the gospel dispen- 
sation. "It is not strange," he said, "that God 
should make his covenant of grace so favourable 
and extensive to the children of pious persons, 
since there is an evident analogy both in the king- 
dom of nature, and in the kingdom of Providence : 
for in these it is evident, that children often inherit 
the gout, or the stone, a healthy and robust consti- 
tution, or sickness and pain, — poverty or riches, — 
disgrace or honour, according to the condition and 
circumstances of their parents. And since it was 
so constituted in the law of innocency, and the 
covenant of works, whereby all the children of 
men should have been established in happiness, if 
Adam, their father, had continued in his obedi- 



Xlvi 3IEM0IR OF THE AUTHOR. 

ence, and wliereby all the posterity of Adam are 
now bom in sin and misery, and involved in his 
fall, — why may we not reasonably suppose the 
mercy of God would extend as far as his justice ? 
Why may not the happiness of the new covenant 
of grace be conveyed to the infant offspring of 
those who have accepted it, which die in their 
infancy, and can have no state of trial in their 
own persons ? " 

These opinions, though " new and peculiar," 
were meekly and diffidently advanced, as merely 
" probable conjectures drawn from reason and 
Scripture, to relieve the difficulties which seem to 
hang on revealed truths." " If the method pro- 
posed," said he, "is not sufficient for this pur- 
pose, I shall rejoice to see better solutions of them 
given, and to behold them set in a fairer light. 
Where I have laboured to follow the track of 
reason, it hath been only in order to do more 
abundant honour to divine revelation, to which I 
entirely submit my faith and practice; and I 
solemnly renounce whatsoever is inconsistent with 
it, for that cannot be right reason. And let us 
remember also, that if all our attempts of this kind 
should fail, yet we may rest assured of this, that 
God is ever wise and righteous and good ; that 
all his transactions witli men, how intricate and 
repugnant soever they may seem to us, are highly 
consistent in His own view, and harmonize with 
all His own perfections. We may be assured 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. xlvii 

that we are sinful and unhappy creatures in our- 
selves; that there is an all-sufficient salvation 
provided through Jesus Christ, the Son of God, 
and that every one shall certainly be a joyful par- 
taker of it, who follows the appointed methods of 
divine grace." 

The condition of the souls in bliss was a favour- 
ite subject of speculation with him ; and his views 
were so agreeable to Frank, the German pietist, 
that, at that remarkable person's instance, the two 
funeral discourses in memory of Sir John and 
Lady Hartopp, which Watts published under the 
title of " Death and Heaven, or the Last Enemy 
conquered, and Separate Spirits made perfect," 
was translated at Geneva. The preacher was 
said, by his translator, to have taken " an occa- 
sion of flying with his thoughts into the blessed 
mansions of the just, and given not only a very 
probable and beautiful idea of the glory of a 
future life in general, but also an enumeration of 
the many sorts of enjoyments and pleasures that 
are to be met with there." 

Watts thought it might be " matter of inquiry 
whether the meanest saint among the sons of 
Adam had not some sort of privilege above any 
rank of angels, by being of a kindred nature to 
our glorified Emmanuel." But among the saints 
themselves he thought there must be a great and 
strongly marked difference of degrees. "Who 
can suppose that Moses, ' the meek, the friend of 



Xlviii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

God/ who was, as it were, his confident on earth, 
has taken his seat no nearer to Him in Paradise 
than Samson and Jephthah, Uhose rash cham- 
pions, those rude and bloody ministers of Provi- 
dence ? ' Of this we may be assured, that there 
is no dull uniformity in the world of spirits." 
He dared not assert that there is no difference 
between souls themselves at their creation and 
union with the body : some considerations would 
rather lead him to believe that real diversities of 
genius existed among them in their own nature. 
But as it is certain that the mind of every man 
has its own peculiar turn and manner of thought, 
so it is more than probable that the soul will carry 
with it to heaven, so much of that turn and man- 
ner as is innocent, and can administer to its hap- 
piness, as in the wicked their evil passions will 
inflict on each his own peculiar and self-caused 
punishment. But if there were no difference be- 
tween spirits in their original formation, yet this 
we know, that " God designed their habitation in 
flesh and blood, and their passage through this 
orb as the means to form and fit them for various 
stations in the unknown world." " The souls of 
men having dwelt many years in particular bodies, 
have been influenced and habituated to particular 
turns of thought, both according to the various 
constitutions of their bodies, and the more various 
studies and businesses and occurrences of life." 
It may reasonably therefore be imagined that 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. xlix 

they will have " the same variety of taste and 
pleasure in that happy world above, according as 
they are fitted for various kinds of sacred enter- 
tainments in their state of preparation, and during 
their residence in flesh and blood ! " 

Watts seems to have said in his mind with 
Milton, 

What, if earth 
Be but the shadow of heaven, and things therein 
Each to other like, more than on earth is thought? 

Blackmore, between whom and Milton Watts may 
be placed about halfway, has asked himself the 
same question ; and accordingly, when, in a poem 
worthy of its anti-illustrious author. Queen Eliza- 
beth, in the body, is taken to heaven in a chariot 
, by the angel Gabriel, that she 

May see the triumphs of the blest, 
and, at the same time. 

Of future joys, a present earnest taste, 
one of the sights with which he entertains her 
there is, — a review before the walls of the New 
Jerusalem. 

Upon a spacious field, 
By his superior port and brighter shield 
Distinguished, Michael drew in long array 
Heaven's bright brigades, that his command obey. 
The illustrious cohorts with seraphic grace 
In long review before their general pass. 
Immortal youth in their bless' d faces smiled: 
How terrible their strength ! their looks how mild ! 
What fatal arms each glorious warrior wears ! 
How keen their swords ! how long and bright their spears 
D 



1 MEMOIR OP THE AUTHOR. 

How awful did the extended front appear ! 
How dreadful was their deep unmeasurable rear ! 
The bless'd were thus employed; these scenes were seen 
Before the city, by the wondering queen. 

If Elizabeth, instead of being present in the 
body at this super-celestial review, had only seen 
it described in such verses as these, she might 
have thought that her own camp at Tilbury made 
a far more imposing display. Watts had no pre- 
dilections for the pomp and circumstance of war ; 
and though, like Mr. Locke, he was an admirer of 
Sir Richard's epics, it would certainly have ap- 
peared to him something worse than absurd to 
represent this as one of the employments of the 
blessed in the world of peace ! Yet the heaven of 
his imagination was coloured by his earthly pur- 
suits : whether there were to be reviews there or 
not, there were to be sermons. 

The spirits of the good must, he thought, have 
some special circumstances of sacred pleasures, 
suited to their labours and studies while in their 
state of trial ; " for the church on earth is but a 
training-school for the church on high, and, as it 
were, a tiring-room, in which we are dressed in 
proper habits for our appearance and our places 
in that bright assembly." Thus he supposed, that 
as Moses and David were both trained up in feed- 
ing flocks in the wilderness, that they might feed 
and rule God's chosen people, this training in the 
arts of holy government on earth prepared them 
to be " chiefs of some blessed army, some sacred 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOE. H 

tribe in heaven." They had both been directors 
of the forms of worship below, under divine inspi- 
ration ; this might fit them to become " leaders of 
some celestial assembly, when a multitude of the 
sons of God come at stated seasons to present 
themselves before the throne." David had been 
the chief mortal man in the harmonious work of 
celebrating the Creator's praise : "may we not then 
imagine that he is or shall be a master of heavenly 
music, before or after the resurrection, and teach 
some of the chosen above to tune their harps to 
the Lamb that was slain ? " Boyle and Ray, pur- 
suing the philosophy in which they delighted on 
earth, contemplate there the wisdom of God in his 
works. Henry More and Howe continue their 
metaphysical researches with heightened and re- 
fined powers of mind. Thomas Goodwin and 
Owen are becoming more and more enlightened 
in their theological perceptions. Eusebius, and 
Usher, and Bishop Burnet there have the whole 
history of the church and the ways of providence 
open to them. But for Tillotson and Baxter, — 
the first having devoted himself to the cultivation 
of holiness, and peace, and love, and the second 
having worked hard for the end of controversies 
and for the conversion of souls, — no occupation 
would seem by this scheme to have been provid- 
ed, if Dr. Watts had not conceived that lectures 
of divine wisdom and grace are given to the 
younger spirits there by those of a more exalted 



lii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

station : " for not only is there the service of 
thanksgiving here, and of prayer, but such enter- 
tainments as lectures and sermons also ; and there 
all the worship that is paid is the established wor- 
ship of the whole country." If some of his con- 
ceptions in these discourses are of the earth, earthy, 
there are parts in which he approaches too near 
the Holy of Holies. 

Dr. Watts was aware — he could not indeed 
fail to perceive — that he exposed himself to some 
reproach for supposing that the distinctions of 
human society were, in a certain sense, continued 
beyond this world. " Some," said he, " will re- 
prove me here, and say, what, must none but 
ministers and authors, and learned men have their 
distinguished rewards and glories in the world of 
spirits ? May not artificers, and traders, and pious 
women be fitted by their character and conduct 
on earth for peculiar stations and employment in 
heaven? Yes, doubtless," he answers. But he 
asks, whether Deborah, who animated the armies 
of Israel, and sung their victories, is not engaged 
in some more illustrious employment among the 
heavenly tribes, than Dorcas, whose highest cha- 
racter is that she was full of alms-deeds, and made 
coats and garments for the poor? and whether 
Dorcas is not " prepared for some greater enjoy- 
ments, some sweeter relish of mercy, or some 
special taste of the Divine goodness above Rahab, 
the harlot ? " Difierent, however, as may be the 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. liii 

degrees of good in heaven, all may be perfect 
there, and free from every defect. 

It has been affirmed, (I know not with what 
truth,) that Baxter, in the first edition of his 
Saint's Rest, spoke of the Parliament of Heaven, 
because he would not call it a Kingdom. Watts 
invests his saints with regal dignity and regal 
powers. " Some part of the happiness of heaven," 
he says, " is described in Scripture by crowns and 
thrones, by royalty and kingly honours : why may 
we not then suppose that such souls, whose sub- 
limer graces have prepared them for such dignity 
and office, may rule the nations, even in a literal 
sense ? Why may not those spirits that have 
passed their trials in flesh and blood, and come 
off conquerors, why may they not sometimes be 
appointed visitors and superintendents over whole 
provinces of intelligent beings in lower regions, 
who are yet labouring in their state of probation ? 
Or perhaps they may be exalted to a presidency 
over inferior ranks of happy spirits, may shine 
bright amongst them as the morning star, and lead 
on their holy armies to celestial work, or worship. 
The Scripture itself gives me a hint of such em- 
ployments in the angelic world, and such presiden- 
cies over some parts of our world, or of their own. 
Do we not read of Gabriel and Michael, and their 
management of the affairs of Persia and Greece, 
and Judah, in the book of Daniel? And it is 
an intimation of the same hierarchy, when some 



liv MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

superior angel led on a multitude of the heavenly 
host to sing an hymn of praise at Bethlehem, when 
the Son of God was born there. Now, if angels 
are thus dignified, may not human spirits unbodied 
have the same office? Our Saviour when he 
rewards the faithful servant that had gained ten 
pounds, bids him take authority over ten cities ; 
and he that had gained five, had five cities under 
his government. So that this is not a mere ran- 
dom thought, or a wild invention of fancy, but 
patronized by the word of God." If he had fol- 
lowed up these views he might have found himself 
nearer Rome than Geneva. 

As might be expected, from the gentleness of 
his disposition, he dwells far less upon the terrors 
of a future state than upon the hopes which are 
held out to the righteous. "The mercy-seat in 
heaven," he said, "is our surest and sweetest 
refuge in every hour of distress and darkness 
on earth." — " How little is death to be dreaded 
by a believer, since it will bring the soul to the 
full possession of its hidden life in heaven ! It is 
a dark valley that divides between this world and 
the next ; but it is all a region of light and blessed- 
ness beyond it. We are now borderers on the 
eternal world, and we know but little of that in- 
visible country. Approaching death opens the 
gates to us, and begins to give our holy curiosity 
some secret satisfaction ; and yet how we shrink 
backward, and are ready to beg and pray that 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. Iv 

they might be closed again ! But it is better to 
have our Christian courage wrought up to a divine 
height, and to say ^ Open, ye everlasting gates, 
and be ye lift up, ye immortal doors, that we may 
enter into the place where the King of glory is ! ' " 

Upon the passage of the soul from the visible 
to the invisible world, we have some curious 
speculations. After bewildering himself in space 
which (agreeable to the lovers' well-known wish) 
he endeavoured to annihilate, and after in like 
manner abolishing substance, and saying that we 
may content ourselves with the notion and descrip- 
tion of it given by the schools, — Suhstantia est 
Ens per se subsistens et substans accidentihus, — 
he argues, that as disembodied spirits cannot exist 
everywhere, and do not properly exist anywhere, 
they may philosophically be said to exist nowhere. 
Whether then does the soul depart when it is sepa- 
rated from the body? and if it depart, whither? 
Perhaps it may be furnished with some new 
vehicle of more refined matter ; perhaps it may 
abide where death finds it, — in anywhereness, or 
nowhereness, not changing its place, but only its 
manner of thinking and acting, and its mode of 
existence, and -without removal finding itself in 
heaven or hell, according to its consciousness of 
its own deserts. 

"I might illustrate this," he says, "by two 
similes, and especially apply them to the case of 
holy souls departing. 



Ivi MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

" 1. Suppose a torch enclosed in a cell of earth, 
in the midst of ten thousand thousand torches that 
shone at large in a spacious amphitheatre. While 
it is enclosed its beams strike only on the walls 
of its own cell, and it has no communion with 
those without ; but let the cell fall down at once, 
and the torch that minute has full communion 
with all those ten thousand; it shines as freely 
as they do, and receives and gives assistance to 
all of them, and joins to add glory to that illustri- 
ous place. 

" 2. Or suppose a man born and brought up in 
a dark prison, in the midst of a fair and populous 
city : he lives there in a close confinement, per- 
haps he enjoys there only the twinkling light of a 
lamp, with thick air and much ignorance ; though 
he has some distant hints and reports of the sur- 
rounding city and its affairs, yet he sees and knows 
nothing immediately, but what is done in his own 
prison, till in some happy minute the walls fall 
down ; then he finds himself at once in a large 
and populous town, encompassed with a thousand 
blessings ; with surprise he beholds the king in all 
his glory, and holds converse with the sprightly 
inhabitants ; he can speak their language, and 
finds his nature suited to such communion ; he 
breathes free air, and stands in the open light ; 
he shakes himself and exults in his own liberty. 
Such is a soul existing in a moment in the sepa- 
rate world of holy and happy souls, and before a 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. Ivii 

present God, when the prison-walls of flesh fall 
to the ground." 

Watts was not one of those divines (unworthily 
so called) who seem in their own element when 
revelling in the description of penal and sulphure- 
ous fires : yet he took no flattering and false view 
of human nature, for he saw, and felt and knew 
that it was corrupted and fallen. Some he said, 
imagined, that his retirement from the world, and 
dwelling much among his own solitary thoughts 
and old authors, had led him into melancholy and 
dismal apprehensions of mankind ; but on the 
contrary, he declared that it was his free and pub- 
lic converse with the world in earlier life, which 
had given him his just and distressful views of his 
fellow-creatures. With old authors, indeed, he 
had no very extensive acquaintance. He could 
call to mind no better one than Eusebius, to enu- 
merate among his spiritual peers in the kingdom 
of heaven. But from some of those with which 
he was conversant, he adopted the dreadful notion, 
that measures man's oflfences by the immeasurable 
power of the Almighty, and aggravates them in 
proportion as that is great. Eternal punishment, 
he says, would not so plainly and evidently seem 
just and reasonable, " unless upon a supposition 
that all offences committed against the infinite 
majesty of God, have a sort of infinite demerit in 
them ! and the offence partaking thus of infinity, 
the punishment must therefore be eternal." Yet 



Jviii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

when he declared his belief in this doctrine, he 
proclaimed that " whosoever sincerely confesses 
and repents of sin, and trusts in the all-sufficient 
atonement and sacrifice of Christ, to remove the 
guilt of it, has abundant assurance from Scripture 
that the blood of Christ will cleanse him from all 
sin, and that the Son of God has been, and will 
be his High-priest to reconcile him to God the 
Father." 

There is however a remarkable passage in the 
preface to the second volume of his Discourses on 
the Worid to Come : — « Were he," he said, " to 
pursue his inquiries into the doctrine of eternal 
punishment, merely by the aids of the light of 
nature and reason, he feared that his natural ten- 
derness might warp him aside from the rules and 
the demands of strict justice, and the wise and 
holy government of the great God. But he was 
constrained to follow the unerring word of God, 
wherein the everlasting punishment of sinners in 
hell is asserted in the plainest and strongest man- 
ner, and that by all the methods of expression 
which are used in Scripture to signify an ever- 
lasting continuance. 

"I must confess here," he adds, "if it were 
possible for the great and blessed God any other 
way to vindicate his own eternal and unchange- 
able hatred of sin, the inflexible justice of his 
government, the wisdom of his severe threaten- 
ings, and the veracity of his predictions, — if it 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOK. Hx 

were also possible for him, without this terrible 
execution, to vindicate the veracity, sincerity, and 
wisdom of the prophets and apostles, and of Jesus 
Christ his Son, the greatest and chiefest of his 
divine messengers ; and then, if the blessed God 
should at any time in a consistence with his glori- 
ous and incomprehensible perfections, release those 
wretched creatures from their acute pains and long 
imprisonment in hell, either with a design of the 
utter destruction of their beings by annihilation, 
or to put them into some unknown world upon a 
new foot of trial, I ought cheerfully and joyfully 
to accept this appointment of God for the good of 
millions of my fellow-creatures, and add my joys 
and praises to all the songs and triumphs of the 
heavenly world, in the day of such a divine and 
glorious release of these prisoners. 

" But I feel myself under a necessity of con- 
fessing, that I am utterly unable to solve these 
difficulties according to the discoveries of the 
New Testament, which must be my constant rule 
of faith, and hope, and expectation, with regard 
to myself and others. I have read the strongest 
and best writers on the other side ; yet, after all 
my studies, I have not been able to find any way 
how these difficulties may be removed, and how 
the divine perfections, and the conduct of God in 
his Word, may be fairly vindicated, without the 
estabhshment of this doctrine, awful and formida- 
ble as it is. 



IX MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

" The ways, indeed, of the great God, and his 
thoughts are above our thoughts and our ways, as 
the heavens are above the earth. Yet I must rest 
and acquiesce where our Lord Jesus Christ, the 
Father's chief Minister both of his wrath and his 
love, has left me in the divine revelations of Scrip- 
ture ; and I am constrained therefore to leave these 
unhappy creatures under the chains of everlasting 
darkness, into which they have cast themselves by 
their wilful iniquities — till the blessed God shall 
see fit to release them. 

" This would be indeed such a new, such an 
astonishing and universal jubilee, both for devils 
and wicked men, as must fill heaven, earth, and 
hell with hallelujahs and joy. In the mean time 
it is my ardent wish, that the awful sense of the 
terrors of the Almighty, and his everlasting anger, 
which the Word of the great God denounces, may 
awaken some souls timely to bethink themselves 
of the dreadful danger into which they are run- 
ning, before those terrors seize them at death, and 
begin to be executed upon them without release, 
and without hope." 

This is a most curious passage. While on the 
one hand it expresses, in the strongest and most 
unequivocal terms, that the writer believed the 
doctrine of eternal punishment, because he found 
it plainly to his understanding declared in Scrip- 
ture, it implies on the other, as obviously as words 
can imply a meaning, an opinion that the Al- 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. Ixi 

mighty lias some secret and niitigating decree altd 
mente reportum, and that "Watts himself agreed, 
in his latent belief, with Origen and the Univer- 
salists. 

But there is another point and of the highest 
importance, on which Dr. Watts has been sup- 
posed to have modified, or changed his creed. I 
know not on what authority the story rests, that 
an Unitarian lady, once in conversation with John- 
son, claimed Dr. Watts as a convert to her sect, 
and said, that although he had defended the Tri- 
nitarian doctrine in his works, he opened his eyes 
at his death. " Did he, madam ? " Johnson is said 
to have replied ; " then the first thing he saw was 
the devil." The speech is such as Johnson might 
have let fly on such an occasion, the more readily 
because he did not believe the assertion that pro- 
voked it. He has praised Watts as being " pure 
from all the heresies of an age to which every 
opinion had become a favourite that the universal 
church has hitherto detested." This was peculiarly 
the case with the dissenters. Thus their own re- 
cent historians say, that during this period error 
was the destroying angel of dissenting congrega- 
tions ; and they trace the cause to their academies, 
saying, it is by the principles of religion which a 
tutor instils into his students, that they become a 
blessing or a curse to the human race ; assassins of 
souls, or instruments of salvation. Arminianism, 
they say, was the first stage of the disease, Arian- 



Ixii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

ism, the second ; aud " when it filled the pulpit it 
invariably emptied the pews. This was the case, 
not only whfere a part of the congregation, alarmed 
by the sound of heresy, fled from the polluted 
house to a separate society ; but where no oppo- 
sition was made, and all remained without a mur- 
mur in the original place. In numerous instances 
the preacher, full of the wisdom of the serpent, 
sought by hiding the monster from their view, to 
draw them over by stealth to the new theology, and 
unveiled his sentiments only as the people were 
able to bear them without a frown. Though at 
last his wishes were crowned with success, yet the 
decay began, and gradually consumed the growth, 
the strength, and the life of the society, till a large 
congregation was reduced to a handful. Where 
Socinianism found an entrance, its operations were 
quicker than those of the Arian creed, and more 
effectual : flourishing societies were reduced to a 
few families, which being animated with zeal for 
the new opinions, or indifferent about any, chose 
to continue to support the modes of worship to 
which, from education or use, they were attached. 
In many places Socinianism was the abomination 
of desolation, and consigned what had been for- 
merly the house of prayer and of the assemblies 
of the saints, an undisturbed abode to the spiders 
and the bats." 

Watts had inherited a large share of the origi- 
nal temptation, — that inward and spiritual temp- 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. Ixiii 

tation whereby man is incited to pluck the forbid- 
den fruit. He approached too near the veil ; and 
confiding in his own natural and cultivated acute- 
ness, endeavoured sometimes strictly to define 
what the Scriptures have left indefinite, as if he 
were possessed of an intellectual prism with which 
he could decompose the Light of Light. There 
were times when he was conscious of this. Upon 
publishing some sermons, many years after they 
were written, in which he had expatiated on the 
nature of the Trinity, he confessed in a note that 
these were " warmer efforts of imagination than 
riper years could indulge, on a theme so sublime 
and abstruse. Since I have searched more studi- 
ously," he says, " into the mystery of late, I have 
learned more of my own ignorance ; so that when 
I speak of these unsearchables, I abate much of 
my younger assurance, nor do my later thoughts 
venture so far into the particular modes of ex- 
plaining the sacred distinctions in the Godhead." 
Yet he continued to search into the unsearch- 
able. In the preface to the second part of his 
Dissertation on this awful subject, he says, " Per- 
haps it may be charged upon me, that I have not, 
in these Dissertations, exactly confined myself in 
every punctilio, to the same sentiments, which I 
had published some years ago, with relation to 
the doctrine of the Trinity ; and particularly, that 
though I continue to maintain the supreme Deity 
of the Son and Spirit, yet that I have described 



Ixiv MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

the doctrine of their personality in stronger and 
more unlimited terms heretofore, than I have done 
in these papers. Here let me give one general 
answer. When I apply myself with diligence to 
make further inquiries into the great doctrines of 
the Gospel, I would never make my own former 
opinions the standard of truth, and the rule by 
which to determine my future judgment. My 
work is always to lay the Bible before me, to con- 
sult that sacred and infallible guide, and to square 
and adjust all my sentiments by that certain and 
unerring rule. It is to the supreme Judge of con- 
troversies that I pay an unreserved submission, 
and would desire all further light from this foun- 
tain. I thank God that I have learned to retract 
my former sentiments, and change them, when 
upon stricter search and review, they appear less 
agreeable to the divine standard of faith. Though 
a sentence or two from any man's former writ- 
ings may be able, perhaps, to confront his latter 
thoughts, yet that is not sufficient to refute them. 
All that it will prove is this, that that man keeps 
his mind ever open to conviction, and that he is 
willing and desirous to change a darker for a 
clearer idea. It will only declare to the world, 
that he can part with a mistake for the hope of 
truth, that he dares confess himself a fallible crea- 
ture, and that his knowledge is capable of im- 
provement." 

It cannot be doubted that Watts's intellectual 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. IxV 

bias inclined him toward the movement party: 
happily his natural piety and his deep sense of 
devotion withheld him from falling into their 
march of error. He left some pieces on the Trini- 
tarian controversy, which the editors of his works 
said, "it was not judged necessary to publish." 
But any suspicion as to the main articles of his 
faith, which such a suppression might otherwise 
seem to warrant, is entirely precluded by their 
publishing his " Solemn Address to the great and 
ever-blessed God," on a review of what he had 
written upon the subject. It was designed for a 
preface to those pieces. If the limits of this 
Biographical Essay permitted, the whole of this 
extraordinary and most passionate supplication 
should be inserted here. The substance might 
be compressed into these words, ' Lord, I believe, 
help thou mine unbelief!' but in none of his 
other compositions has Watts written with such 
eloquence, such fulness of feeling, such agony of 
mind. As he had before done concerning eternal 
torments, he says and unsays, affirms and quali- 
fies his affirmations : but that was a subject on 
which he speculated as one who felt that he had 
no personal interest in the question : here he is 
conscious of temptation, and apprehensive of sin. 
He declares his implicit submission to the Scrip- 
tures, yet complains that there should be any 
thing in them which has not been revealed so as 
to be within reach of his capacity, — any mys- 

E 



Ixvi MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

teries which remain mysterious to him ! Then 
again he entreats God to preserve him from the 
danger into which he runs who pursues such in- 
quiries, and prays that he may " never be so un- 
happy as to unglorify his Father, his Saviour, or 
his Sanctifier," in any of his sentiments or expres- 
sions concerning them. Finally, he appeals to the 
divine promises, and throws himself upon the 
divine mercy in this conclusion : 

" Blessed and faithful God, hast thou not pro- 
mised that the meek thou wilt guide in judgment, 
the meek thou wilt teach thy way ? Hast thou 
not taught us by Isaiah thy prophet, that thou 
wilt bring the blind by a way which they know 
not, and wilt lead them in paths which they have 
not known ? Hast thou not informed us by thy 
prophet Hosea, that if we follow on to know the 
Lord, then we shall know him ? Hath not thy 
Son, our Saviour, assured us, that our heavenly 
Father will give his Holy Sj^irit to them who ask 
him ? And is he not appointed to guide us into 
all truth ? Have I not sought the gracious guid- 
ance of thy good Spirit continually? Am I not 
truly sensible of my own darkness and weakness, 
my dangerous prejudices on every side, and my 
utter insufficiency for my own conduct ? Wilt 
thou leave such a poor creature, bewildered among 
a thousand perplexities, which are raised by the 
various opinions and contrivances of men, to ex- 
plain thy divine truth ? 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. Ixvu 

"Help me, heavenly Father, for I am quite 
tired and weary of these human explainings, so 
various and uncertain. When -wilt thou explain 
it to me thyself, O my God, by the secret and 
certain dictates of thy Spirit, according to the inti- 
mation of thy Word ? Nor let any pride of reason, 
nor any affectation of novelty, nor any criminal 
bias whatsoever, turn my heart aside from heark- 
ening to these divine dictates of thy Word and thy 
Spirit. Suffer not any of my native corruptions, 
nor the vanity of my imagination, to cast a mist 
over my eyes while I am searching after the 
knowledge of thy mind and will, for my eternal 
salvation. 

" I entreat, most merciful Father, that thou 
wilt not suffer the remnant of my short life to be 
wasted in such endless wanderings in quest of 
thee and thy Son Jesiis, as a great part of my 
past days have been ; but let my sincere endea- 
vours to know thee, in all the ways whereby thou 
hast discovered thyself in thy Word, be crowned 
with such success that my soul being established 
in every needful truth by thy Holy Spirit, I may 
spend my remaining life according to the rules of 
thy gospel, and may, with all the holy and happy 
creation, ascribe glory and honour, wisdom and 
power, to thee who sittest upon the throne, and to 
the Lamb for ever and ever ! " 

It cannot be supposed that the disquisitions to 
which this address was to have been prefixed, 



Ixviii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

could contain an avowal of Socinian or Arian opi- 
nions. Socinianism he knew to be utterly unten- 
able by any who take the Scriptures for their rule 
of faith; upon this his judgment has been fre- 
quently and cogently given : there is not the 
slightest indication in any of his works of a ten- 
dency toward Arianism, and both are distinctly 
disclaimed in this memorable exposition of his 
own state of mind. His complaint was not that 
he could not believe all that is revealed, but that 
revelation had not extended further, and enabled 
him to comprehend the incomprehensible. Happy 
had it been for him, if he, who humbled his mind 
to the composition of songs and spelling-books for 
children, had applied to his own case our Saviour's 
words, and in this instance become as a little 
child himself ! Happy had it been, because, dur- 
ing the whole course of his innocent, and other- 
wise most peaceful life, he seems never to have 
been assailed by any other temptation than this 
of the intellect, never to have been beset with any 
other troubles than those in which his own subtlety 
entangled him. 

These, however, are the doubts which he " sub- 
dued, not in a martial posture, but upon his 
knees ; " in his own sense of insecurity and dan- 
ger, in his struggles against temptation, in his 
trouble and agony of mind, the mischief ended. 
The cloud and the darkness came over him, the 
deep waters seemed rising to overwhelm him, but 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. Ixix 

he clung to the Rock of his salvation, and " blessed 
God who had not suffered him to abandon the 
gospel of his Son Jesus, and blessed the Holy 
Spirit who had kept him attentive to the truth 
disclosed in that gospel." His theological works 
are all designed to enforce and vindicate that 
truth ; and what he has recorded of the distress 
in which he involved himself, by his desire of be- 
coming wise beyond what is written, may well 
deter others from coveting to taste of the fruit 
of the forbidden tree. 

If Watts had flourished in the ages of the 
schoolmen, acute as he was, the appellation which 
his disciples would have devised to honour his 
.name, would have been derived rather from his 
piety and benevolence, his love of God and man, 
than from his metaphysical speculations ; for even 
in those days it was by his virtues, by the Chris- 
tian spirit which animated him, that this devout 
and amiable man would have been peculiarly cha- 
racterized. He lived in better times, and was as 
fortunate in his station as in the age in which his 
lot was cast. In his own circle he enjoyed the 
highest reputation. The universities of Edin- 
burgh and Aberdeen spontaneously conferred on 
him the degree of Doctor in Divinity ; and John- 
son has justly observed, that " academical honours 
would have more value if they were always be- 
stowed with equal judgment." No circumstance, 
either public or private, tended to provoke in him 



IXX MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

any angry or acrimonious feelings. Strongly as 
he was attached to the general principle of non- 
conformity, there was no bitterness in his dissent ; 
he lived not only in charity with all men, but on 
terms of good will and friendship with some of the 
most eminent of the clergy. All parties agreed 
in rendering justice to the benignity of his dis- 
position, the usefulness of his labours, and the 
purity of his life. 

It was from motives of gratitude towards Sir 
Thomas and Lady Abney that he first engaged 
in the humbler parts of education. His art of 
Reading and Writing English was dedicated to 
their daughters, for whose use it was originally 
drawn up, at a time when, being incapable of 
more public work, he thought himself bound to 
make his best acknowledgment of the uncommon 
generosity and kindness which invited him into 
that family : this could be done, he said, in no way 
more grateful to them, nor more pleasing to him- 
self, than by offering his assistance in the educa- 
tion of their children, then in their youngest years. 
The sense of a higher duty induced him to com- 
pose his catechisms for their use ; one for children 
of three or four years old, and a second for those 
■ of seven or eight; both intended as preparatory 
for the Assembly's Shorter Catechism. " I well 
know," said he, "that some of my particular 
friends imagine my time is employed in too mean 
a service while I write for babes ; but I content 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. Ixxi 

myself with this thought, that nothing is too mean 
for a servant of Christ to engage in, if he can 
thereby most effectually promote the kingdom of 
his blessed Maker. Perhaps it is not proper for 
me to say, and the world will hardly believe, what 
pains have been taken in composing these cate- 
chisms ; with what care I have endeavoured to 
select the most easy and necessary parts of our 
religion, in order to propose them to the memory 
of children according to their ages; what labo- 
rious diligence has been used to seek out all the 
plainest and most familiar forms of speech, that 
the great things of God and the mysteries of the 
gospel might be brought down to the capacities of 
children. It is not for me to say how many hours 
and days and weeks have been spent in revising 
and examining every word and expression, that, 
if possible, nothing might be inserted which might 
give just occasion of offence to pious persons and 
families ; that nothing might be left out which was 
necessary for children to know in that tender age ; 
and that no word, phrase, or sentiment, if possible, 
might be admitted, which could not be brought in 
some measure within the reach of a child's under- 
standing." 

He accompanied this with what he called " A 
Preservative from the Sins and Follies of Child- 
hood and Youth," or a brief account of the vices 
and frailties to which childhood and youth are 
liable, and of which they should be warned early ; 



Ixxii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

with arguments against them, taken from reason 
and Scripture. This was drawn up in the way of 
question and answer; but it was not called a cate- 
chism, because he proposed it not to be learnt by 
heart, but to be frequently read and inculcated. 
He composed also catechisms of scriptural names, 
and of the more important transactions recorded 
in the Bible, and, in the same form, what he en- 
titled " A Short View of the whole Scripture His- 
tory," but which is in reality, as any such view 
must be, of considerable length. His love of child- 
ren made him delight in employing himself for 
their instruction and amusement. He composed 
rhyming lines for copy-books, containing moral 
instruction, and beginning with every letter of 
the alphabet; copies, composed of short letters, 
for teaching to write even ; and others, each line 
of which contained all the twenty-four letters. 
One stanza in his Art of Reading and Writing 
enumerates the twelve signs of the zodiac ; and 
there are two others, in one of which the planets 
are described in their order, according to the vul- 
gar philosophy, which still it seems, in his time, 
made the earth its centre ; in the other, the true 
system is expressed. 

Dr. Johnson says, " he could not praise his poet- 
ry itself highly, but he could praise its design ; " — 
and " this praise the general interest of mankind 
requires to be given to writers who please and do 
not corrupt, who instruct and do not decoy." No 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. Ixxiii 

compositions of the kind have obtained such ex- 
tensive use as his Hymns and Songs for Children. 
Doddridge relates, in a letter to him, an instance 
of the effect they produced, and the affectionate 
reverence with which his name was in consequence 
regarded. " I was preaching," he says, " to a 
large assembly of plain country people, at a 
village, when, after a sermon from Hebrews vi. 
12, we sung one of your hymns, which, if I re- 
member right, was the 140th of the second book ; 
and in that part of the worship I had the satisfac- 
tion to observe tears in the eyes of several of the 
people. After the service was over, some of them 
told me that they were not able to sing, so deeply 
were their minds affected ; and the clerk in parti- 
cular said he could hardly utter the words as he 
gave them out." The hymn indeed was likely to 
have this effect upon an assembly, whose minds 
were under the immediate impression produced by 
a pathetic preacher ; and it is one of the advan- 
tages of devotional singing that they who bear a 
part in it, affect themselves. 

Give me tlie wings of faith to rise 

Within the veil, and see 
The Saints above, how great their joys, 

And bright their glories be. 

Once they were mourning here below, 

And wet their couch with tears ; 
They wrestled hard, as we do now, 

With sins, and doubts, and fears. 



Ixxiv MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

I ask them whence their victory came ? 

They with united breath 
Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb, 

Their triumph to his death. 

They mark'd the footsteps that he trod, 

(His zeal inspired their breast,) 
And, following their incarnate God, 

Possess the promised rest. 

Our glorious Leader claims our praise. 

For him our pattern given, 
While the long cloud of witnesses 

Show the same path to Heaven. 

" They were most of them," Doddridge conti- 
nues, "poor people, who work for their living; 
yet on the mention of your name, I found that 
they had read several of your books with delight ; 
and that your Psalms and Hymns were almost 
their daily entertainment. And when one of the 
company said, ' What if Dr. "Watts should come 
down to Northampton ? ' another replied, with re- 
markable warmth, ' The very sight of him would 
be as good as an ordinance to me ! ' I mention 
the matter just as it occurred, and am persuaded 
that it is only a familiar and natural specimen of 
what often takes place amongst a multitude of 
Christians who never saw your face." 

" I have been in pain," says Colonel Gardiner, 
in a letter to Doddridge, lest that excellent person, 
(Dr. Watts,) should be called to heaven before I 
had an opportunity to let him know how much 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. IXXV 

his works have been blessed in me, and of course 
to return him my hearty thanks ; for though it is 
owing to the operation of the Blessed Spirit that 
any thing works effectually upon our hearts, yet 
if we are not thankful to the instrument which 
God is pleased to make use of, which we do see, 
how shall we be thankful to the Almighty whom 
we have not seen ? Well am I acquainted with 
his works, especially with his Psalms, Hymns, and 
Lyrics. How often, by singing some of them 
when by myself, on horseback and elsewhere, has 
the evil spirit been made to flee away. 

Whene'er my heart in tune was found 
Like David's harp of solemn sound." 

From such testimonies to the effect of his poems 
"Watts must have received more heartfelt satisfac- 
tion than the highest degree of critical approba- 
tion and popular applause could have communi- 
cated to a mind like his. 

Dr. Johnson, in what he says of him and his 
poems, has been equally mistaken concerning the 
species of poetry, and the characteristics of the 
author. He thought that the first attempt to em- 
ploy the ornaments of romance in the decoration 
of religion was made by Mr. Boyle's Martyrdom 
of Theodora. This is not remarkable, because if 
he had been as conversant with the stores of our 
earlier poetry as he was with almost any other 
department of general literature, he would not 
have commenced his collection of the British Poets 



Ixxvi MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

(the first of its kind) with Cowley. But when 
he asserts that devotional poetry is unsatisfactory, 
because the paucity of its topics enforces perpetual 
repetition, and the sanctity of the matter rejects 
the ornaments of figurative diction, it seems as if 
he had taken a most contracted and short-sighted 
view of the subject, and as if he had forgotten 
that of all poetry, inspired poetry is the most 
figurative. 

He says of Watts himself, in his poetical cha- 
racter, that his judgment was clear, and that he 
noted beauties and faults with very nice discern- 
ment. Where was this judgment and this nice 
discernment when he professed his admiration of 
Sir Richard Blackmore, and went for an example 
of English heroic verse in his Grammar, to that 
knight's " excellent poem, called King Arthur ? " 
But to this praise of Dr. Watts every reader will 
assent, that his thoughts are always religiously 
pure ; " that he is at least one of the few poets 
with whom youth and ignorance may be safely 
pleased ; " " that happy will that reader be whose 
mind is disposed, by his verse or his prose, to 
copy his benevolence to man, and his reverence 
to God ; " that " if he stood not in the first 
class of genius, he compensated this defect by a 
ready application of his powers to the promotion 
of piety ; " and that " to those all human eulogies 
are vain, whom we believe applauded by angels 
and numbered with the just." 



MEMOIR OP THE AUTHOR. Ixxvii 

Feeble as Dr. Watts always was in body, and 
much as he had suffered from illness, he attained 
to a good old age. The conduct of some very 
near relations embittered his latter days, and for 
a while he seemed, being at the time in a state of 
extreme weakness, stupefied by it to such a degree 
as hardly to take notice of any thing about him. 
The worst part of this behaviour, which one of 
Doddridge's friends characterizes as " most mar- 
vellous, infamous, enormous wickedness," was con- 
cealed from him. " Lady Abney," says the writer, 
" keeps him in peaceful ignorance, and his ene- 
mies at a becoming distance ; so that in the midst 
of this cruel persecution he lives comfortably; 
and when a friend asks him how he does, answers, 
' Waiting God's leave to die.' It was in this stage 
of his decay that he mentioned the observation 
of an aged minister, how " the most learned and 
knowing Christians, when they come to die, have 
only the same plain promises of the Gospel for 
their support, as the common and unlearned ; and 
so," said he, " I find it. It is the plain promises 
of the Gospel that are my support ; and I bless 
God that they are plain promises ; that do not 
require much labour and pains to understand 
them ; for I can do nothing now but look into 
my Bible for some promise to support me, and 
live upon that." 

In this patient and peaceful state of mind, on 
the 25th of Nov. 1748, and in the 75th year of 



Ixxviii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

his age, he departed " in sure and certain hope." 
His body was deposited in the burial-ground of 
Bunhill-fields. His pupil, Sir John Hartopp, and 
his true friend. Lady Abney, under whose roof he 
had partaken of all the comforts of affluence, for 
six-and-thirty years, erected a handsome tomb 
over his grave; the epitaph he had composed 
himself, in these humble words : — 

ISAAC WATTS, D. D. 

Pastor of a Church of Christ in London, 
successor to 

THE REV. JOSEPH CAKYL, DK. JOHN OWEN, MR. DAVID 
CLARKSON, AND DR. ISAAC CHAUNCY; 

after fifty years of feeble labours in the gospel, 

interrupted by four years of tiresome sickness, 

was at last dismissed to his rest. 

In uno Jesu omnia. 

2 Cor. V. 8. Absent from the body and present with the 

Lord. 

Col. iii. 4. When Christ who is my life shall appear, then 
shall I also appear with him in gloiy. 

R. S. 
KesicicJc, August 20, 1834. 



PREFACE. 

It has been a long complaint of the virtuous and 
refined world, that poesy, whose original is divine, 
should be enslaved to vice and profaneness ; that 
an art, inspired from heaven, should have so far 
lost the memory of its birth place, as to be engaged 
in the interests of hell. How unhappily is it per- 
verted from its most glorious design ! How basely 
has it been driven away from its proper station in 
the temple of God, and abused to much dishonour ! 
The iniquity of men has constrained it to serve 
their vilest purposes, while the sons of piety mourn 
the sacrilege and the shame. 

The eldest song, which history has brought down 
to our ears, was a noble act of worship paid to the 
God of Israel, when his ' right hand became glo- 
rious in power! when thy right hand, Lord, 
dashed in pieces the enemy : the chariots of Pha- 
raoh and his hosts were cast into the Red Sea. 
Thou didst blow with thy wind, the deep covered 
them, and they sank as lead in the mighty wa- 
ters.' Exod. XV. This art was maintained sacred 
through the following ages of the church, and em- 
ployed by kings and prophets, by David, Solomon, 
and Isaiah, in describing the nature and the glo- 
ries of God, and in conveying grace or vengeance 



IXXX PREFACE. 

to the hearts of men. By this method they brought 
so much of heaven down to this lower world, as 
the darkness of that dispensation would admit : 
And now and then a divine and poetic rapture 
lifted their souls far above the level of that econo- 
my of shadows, bore them away far into a brighter 
region, and gave them a glimpse to evangelic day. 
The life of angels was harmoniously breathed into 
the children of Adam, and their minds raised near 
to heaven in melody and devotion at once. 

In the younger days of heathenism, the Muses 
were devoted to the same service : the language in 
which old Hesiod addresses them is tliis : 

MovaaL IlLepirj&Ev aocSyGt KTieiofvaai, 

Aevre 6y, IvviTveTS ocperepov irarip' vfLvelovacu. 

Pierian Pluses, fam'd for heavenly lays, 
Descend and sing the God your Father's praise. 

And he pursues the subject in ten pious lines, 
which I could not forbear to transcribe, if the as- 
pect and sound of so much Greek were not terri- 
fying to a nice reader. 

But some of the latter poets of the Pagan world 
have debased this divine gift ; and many of the 
writers of the first rank, in this our age of national 
Christians, have, to their eternal shame, surpassed 
the vilest of the Gentiles. They have not only 
disrobed religion of all the ornaments of verse, 
but have employed their pens in impious mischief, 
to deform her native beauty and defile her honours. 



PREFACE. Ixxxi 

They have exposed her most sacred character to 
drollery, and dressed her up in a most vile and 
ridiculous disguise, for the scorn of the ruder herd 
of mankind. The vices have been painted like 
so many goddesses, temptation heightened where 
nature needs the strongest restraints. With sweet- 
ness of sound, and delicacy of expression, they 
have given a relish to blasphemies of the harshest 
kind ; and when they rant at their Maker in so- 
norous numbers, they fancy themselves to have 
acted the hero well. 

Thus almost in vain have the throne and the 
pulpit cried reformation ; while the stage and li- 
centious poems have waged open war with the 
pious design of church and state. The press has 
spread the poison far, and scattered wide the mor- 
tal infection : Unthinking youth have been enticed 
to sin, beyond the vicious propensities of nature, 
plunged early into diseases and death, and sunk 
down to damnation in multitudes. "Was it for this 
that poesy was endued with all those allurements 
that lead the mind away in pleasing captivity ? 
Was it for this, she was furnished with so many 
intellectual charms, that she might seduce the 
heart from God, the original beauty, and the most 
lovely of beings ? Can I ever be persuaded, that 
those sweet and resistless forces of metaphor, vdt, 
sound, and number, were given with this design, 
that they should be all ranged under the banner 
of the great malicious spirit, to invade the rights 

F 



Ixxxii PREFACE. 

of heaven, and bring swift and everlasting destruc- 
tion upon men? How will these allies of the 
nether world, the lewd and profane versifiers, stand 
aghast before the great Judge, when the blood of 
many souls, whom they never saw, shall be laid 
to the charge of their writings, and be dreadfully 
required at their hands ? The Reverend Mr. Col- 
lier has set this awful scene before them, in just 
and flaming colours. If the application were not 
too rude and uncivil, that noble stanza of my 
Lord Roscommon, on Psalm cxlviii. might be ad- 
dressed to them : 

Ye dragons, whose contagious breath 

Peoples the dark retreats of death ; 

Change your dire hissings into heavenly songs, 

And praise your !Maker with your forked tongues. 

This profanation and debasement of so divine 
an art has tempted some weaker Christians to 
imagine that poetry and vice are naturally akin ; 
or, at least, that verse is fit only to recommend 
trifles, and entertain our looser hours ; but it is 
too light and trivial a method to treat any thing 
that is serious and sacred. They submit, indeed, 
to use it in divine psalmody ; but they love the 
driest translation of the psalm best. They will 
venture to sing a dull hymn or two at church, in 
tunes of equal dulness ; but still they persuade 
themselves, and their children, that the beauties 
of poesy are vain and dangerous. All that arises 
above Mr. Sternhold is too airy for worship, and 



PREFACE. Ixxxiii 

hardly escapes the sentence of ' unclean and abo- 
minable.' It is strange that persons that have had 
the Bible in their hands, should be led away by 
thoughtless prejudices to so wild and rash an opi- 
nion. Let me entreat them not to indulge this 
sour, this censorious humour too far, lest the sa- 
cred writers fall under the lash of their unlimited 
and unguarded reproaches. Let me entreat them 
to look into their Bibles, and remember the style 
and way of writing that is used by the ancient 
prophets. Have they forgot, or were they never 
told, that many parts of the Old Testament are 
Hebrew verse ; and the figures are stronger, and 
the metaphors bolder, and the images more sur- 
prising and strange than ever I read in any pro- 
fane writer. When Deborah sings her praises to 
the God of Israel, while he marched from the field 
of Edom, she sets the 'earth a-trembling, the 
heavens drop, and the mountains dissolve from 
before the Lord. They fought from heaven, the 
stars in their courses fought against Sisera: When 
the river of Kishon swept them away, that an- 
cient river, the river Kishon. O my soul, thou 
hast trodden down strength.' Judg. v. &c. When 
Eliphaz, in the book of Job, speaks his sense of 
the holiness of God, he introduces a machine in a 
vision ; ' Fear came upon me, trembling on all my 
bones ; the hair of my flesh stood up ; a spirit 
passed by and stood still, but its form was undis- 
cernible ; an image before mine eyes ; and silence ; 



Ixxxiv PREFACE. 

Then I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal man 
be more just than God?' &c. Job. iv. When 
he describes the safety of the righteous, he ' hides 
him from the scourge of the tongue, he makes him 
laugh at destruction and famine, he brings the 
stones of the field into league with him, and makes 
the brute animals enter into a covenant of peace.' 
Job, V. 21. When Job speaks of the grave, how 
melancholy is the gloom that he spreads over it ! 
' It is a region to which I must shortly go, and 
whence I shall not return ; it is a land of dark- 
ness, it is darkness itself, the land of the shadow 
of death ; all confusion and disorder, and where 
the light is as darkness. This is my house, there 
have I made my bed : I have said to corruption, 
Thou art my father ; and to the worm, thou art 
my mother and my sister : As for my hope, who 
shall see it ? I and my hope go down together to 
the bars of the pit.' Job, x. 21, and xvii. 13. 
AYlien he humbles himself in complainings before 
the almightiness of God, what contemptible and 
feeble images doth he use ! ' Wilt thou break a 
leaf driven to and fro ? Wilt thou pursue the dry 
stubble ? I consume away like a rotten thing, a 
garment eaten by the moth.' Job, xiii. 25, &c. 
' Thou liftest me up to the wind, thou causest me 
to ride upon it, and dissolvest my substance. Job, 
xxiii. 22. Can any man invent more despicable 
ideas, to represent the scoundrel herd and refuse 
of mankind, than those which Job uses? chap. 



PREFACE. IXXXV 

XXX. and thereby he aggravates his own sorrows 
and reproaches, to amazement : ' They that are 
younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers 
I would have disdained to have set with the dogs 
of my flock : for want and famine they were soli- 
tary ; fleeing into the wilderness, desolate and 
waste : They cut up mallows by the bushes, and 
juniper-roots for their meat : They were driven 
forth from among men (they cried after them as 
after a thief) to dwell in the cliffs of the valleys, 
in the caves of the earth, and in rocks : Among 
the bushes they brayed, under the nettles they 
were gathered together ; they were children of 
fools, yea, children of base men ; they were viler 
than the earth : And now I am their song, yea, I 
am their by- word,' &c. How mournful and de- 
jected is the language of his own sorrows ! ' Ter- 
rors are turned upon him, they pursue his soul as 
the wind, and his welfare passes away as a cloud ; 
his bones are pierced within him, and his soul is 
poured out : he goes mourning without the sun, a 
brother to dragons, and a companion to owls ; 
while his harp and organ are turned into the voice 
of them that weep.' I must transcribe one half 
of this holy book, if I would show the grandeur, 
the variety, and the justness of his ideas, or the 
pomp and beauty of his expression ; I must copy 
out a good part of the writings of David and 
Isaiah, if I would represent the poetical excel- 
lences of their thoughts and style : nor is the Ian- 



Ixxxvi PREFACE. 

guage of the lesser prophets, especially in some 
paragraphs, much inferior to these. 

Now, while they paint human nature in its va- 
rious forms and circumstances, if their designing 
be so just and noble, their disposition so artful, 
and their colouring so bright, beyond the most 
famed human writers, how much more must their 
descriptions of God and heaven exceed all that is 
possible to be said by a meaner tongue ! When 
they speak of the dwelling-place of God, ' He 
inhabits eternity, and sits upon the throne of his 
holiness, in the midst of light inaccessible.' When 
his holiness is mentioned, ' The heavens are not 
clean in his sight, he charges his angels with folly : 
He looks to the moon, and it shineth not, and the 
stars are not pure before his eyes : He is a jealous 
God, and a consuming fire.' If we speak of 
strength, * Behold he is strong: He removes the 
mountains, and they know it not : He overturns 
them in his anger : He shakes the earth from her 
place, and her pillars tremble. He makes a path 
through the mighty waters, he discovers the foun- 
dations of the world : The pillars of heaven are 
astonished at his reproof.' And, after all, ' These 
are but a portion of his ways : The thunder of 
his power who can understand ? ' His sovereignty, 
his knowledge, and his wisdom, are revealed to us 
in language vastly superior to all the poetical ac- 
counts of heathen divinity. ' Let the potsherds 
strive with the potsherds of the earth ; but shall 



PREFACE. IxXXvii 

the clay say to him thatfashioneth it, What makest 
thou ? He bids the heavens drop down from above, 
and let the skies pour down righteousness. He 
commands the sun, and it riseth not, and he seal- 
eth up the stars. It is he that saith to the deep. 
Be dry, and he drieth up the rivers. Woe to 
them that seek deep to hide their council from the 
Lord ; his eyes are upon all their ways, he under- 
stands their thoughts afar off. Hell is naked be- 
fore him, and destruction hath no covering. He 
calls out all the stars by their names, he frustrat- 
eth the tokens of the liars, and makest he diviners 
mad. He turns wise men backward, and their 
knowledge becomes foolish.' His transcendent 
eminence above all things is most nobly repre- 
sented, when he ' sits upon the circle of the earth, 
and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers : 
All nations before him are as the drop of a bucket, 
and as the small dust of the balance : He takes 
up the isles as a very little thingj Lebanon, with 
all her beasts, is not sufficient for a sacrifice to this 
God, nor are all her trees sufficient for the burn- 
ing. This God, before whom the whole creation 
is as nothing, yea, less than nothing, and vanity. 
To which of all the heathen gods will ye compare 
me, saith the Lord, and what shall I be likened 
to ? ' And to which of all the heathen poets shall 
we liken or compare this glorious orator, the sa- 
cred describer of the Godhead ? The orators of 
all nations are as nothing before him, and their 



IxXXviii PREFACE. 

words are vanity and emptiness. Let us turn our 
eyes now to some of the holy writings, where God 
is creating the world : How meanly do the best 
of the Gentiles talk and trifle upon this subject, 
when brought into comparison with Moses, whom 
Longinus himself, a Gentile critic, cites as a mas- 
ter of the sublime style, when he chose to use it ; 
^And the Lord said. Let there be light, and there 
was light ; Let there be clouds and seas, sun and 
stars, plants and animals, and behold they are : ' 
He commanded, and they appear and obey : ' By 
the word of the Lord were the hea.vens made, and 
all the host of them, by the breath of his mouth.' 
This is working like a God, with infinite ease and 
omnipotence. His w^onders of providence for the 
terror and ruin of his adversaries, and for the 
succour of his saints, is set before our eyes in the 
scripture with equal magnificence, and as becomes 
divinity. When 'he arises out of his place, the 
earth trembles, j;he foundations of the hills are 
shaken because he is virroth : There goes a smoke 
up out of his nostrils, and fire out of his mouth 
devoureth, coals are kindled by it. He bows the 
heavens, and comes down, and darkness is under 
his feet. The mountains melt like wax, and flow 
down at his presence.' If Virgil, Homer, or Pin- 
dar, were to prepare an equipage for a descending 
God, they might use thunder and lightnings too, 
and clouds and fire, to form a chariot and horses 
for the battle, or the triumph ; but there is none 



PREFACE. Ixxxix 

of them provides him a flight of cherubs instead 
of horses, or seats him in ' chariots of salvation.' 
David beholds him riding ^ upon the heaven of 
heavens, by his name jah : He was mounted upon 
a cherub and did fly ; he flew on the wings of the 
wind ; ' and Habakkuk sends ' The pestilence be- 
fore him.' Homer keeps a mighty stir with his 

Ne^eA?;yepera Zevg and Hesiod with his 'Z.evg V7pi[3pefieTi]C, 

Jupiter that raises up the clouds, and that makes 
a noise, or thunders on high. But a divine poet 
makes the ' clouds but the dust of his feet ; ' and 
when the Highest gives his voice in the heavens, 
' hailstones and coals of fire follow.' A divine 
poet discovers the channels of the waters, and lays 
open the foundations of nature ; * at thy rebuke, 
Lord, at the blast of the breath of thy nostrils.' 
When the Holy One alighted upon Mount Sinai, 
' his glory covered the heavens : He stood and 
measured the earth : He beheld, and drove asun- 
der the nations, and the everlasting mountains 
were scattered : The perpetual hills did bow ; his 
ways are everlasting.' Then the prophet *saw 
the tents of Cushan in affliction, and the curtains 
of the land of Midian did tremble.' Hab. iii. Nor 
did the blessed Spirit which animated these writers 
forbid them the use of visions, dreams, the open- 
ing of scenes dreadful and delightful, and the in- 
troduction of machines upon great occasions ; the 
divine license in this respect is admirable and sur- 
prising, and the images are often too bold and dan- 



gerous for an uninspired writer to imitate. Mr. 
Dennis has made a noble essay to discover how 
much superior is inspired poesy to the brightest and 
best descriptions of a mortal pen. Perhaps, if his 
proposal of criticism had been encouraged and pur- 
sued, the nation might have learnt more value for 
the Word of God, and the wits of the age might 
have been secured from the danger of Deism ; 
while they must have been forced to confess at 
least the divinity of all the poetical books of 
Scripture, when they see a genius running through 
them more than human. 

Who is there now will dare to assert that the 
doctrines of our faith will not indulge or endure 
a delightful dress ? Shall the French poet* af- 
fright us, by saying, 

De la foi d'un chr^tien les rayst^res terribles 
D'ornements ^gay^s ne sont point susceptibles V 

But the French critic t in his reflections upon 
Eloquence tells us, ' That the majesty of our reli- 
gion, the hohness of its laws, the purity of its 
morals, the height of its mysteries, and the im- 
portance of every subject that belongs to it, re- 
quires a grandeur, a nobleness, a majesty, and 
elevation of style, suited to the theme : sparkling 
images and magnificent expressions must be used, 
and are best borrowed from Scripture: let the 

* Boileau. f Rapin. 



preacher that aims at eloquence, read the pro- 
phets incessantly, for their writings are an abun- 
dant source of all the riches and ornaments of 
speech.' And, in my opinion, this is far better 
counsel than Horace gives us, when he says, 

Vos exemplaria Graca 

Noctuma versate manu, versate diui'iia. 

As in the conduct of my studies with regard 
to divinity, I have reason to repent of nothing 
more than that I have not perused the Bible with 
more frequency ; so if I were to set up for a poet, 
with a design to exceed all the modern writers, I 
would follow the advice of Eapin, and read the 
prophets night and day. I am sure, the compo- 
sures of the following book would have been filled 
with much greater sense, and appeared with much 
more agreeable ornaments, had I derived a larger 
portion from the Holy Scriptures. 

Besides, we may fetch a further answer to Mon- 
sieur Boileau's objection, from other poets of his 
own country. What a noble use have Racine and 
Corneille made of Christian subjects, in some of 
their best tragedies ! What a variety of divine 
scenes are displayed, and pious passions awakened 
in those poems. The martyrdom of Polyeucte, 
how doth it reign over our love and pity, and at 
the same time animate our zeal and devotion ! 
May I here be permitted the liberty to return my 
thanks to that fair and ingenious hand * that di- 
* Philomela. 



rccted me to such entertainments in a foreign lan- 
guage, which I had long wished for, and sought 
in vain, in our own. Yet I must confess, that the 
Davideis, and the two Arthurs, have so far an- 
swered Boileau's objections, in English, as that 
the obstacles of attempting Christian poesy are 
broken down, and the vain pretence of its being 
impracticable, is experimentally confuted.! 

It is true^ indeed, the Christian mysteries have 
not such need of gay trappings as beautified, or 
rather composed, the heathen superstition. But 
this still makes for the greater ease and surer suc- 
cess of the poet. The wonders of our religion, 
in a plain narration and a simple dress, have a 
native grandeur, a dignity, and a beauty in them, 
though they do not utterly disdain all methods of 
ornament. The book of the Revelations seems 
to be a prophecy, in the form of an opera, or a 
dramatic poem, where divine art illustrates the 
subject with many charming glories ; but still it 
must be acknowledged, that the naked themes of 
Christianity have something brighter and bolder 
in them, something more surprising and celestial, 
than all the adventures of gods and heroes, all the 



t Sir Kichard Blackmore, in his admirable preface to his 
last poem, entitled Alfred, has more copiously refuted all 
Boileau's arguments on this subject, and that with great jus- 
tice and elegance. I am persuaded that many persons who 
despise the poem would acknowledge the just sentiments of 
that preface. 



dazzling images of false lustre that form and gar- 
nish a heathen song : here the verj argument 
would give wonderful aid to the muse, and the 
heavenly theme would so relieve a dull hoilr, and 
a languishing genius, that when the muse nods, 
the sense would burn and sparkle upon the reader, 
and keep him feelingly awake. 

With how much less toil and expense might a 
Drjden, an Otway, a Congreve, or a Dennis, fur- 
nish out a Christian poem than a modern play ! 
There is nothing among all the ancient fables, or 
later romances, that have two such extremes unit- 
ed in them, as the eternal God becoming an in- 
fant of days : the possessor of the palace of Hea- 
ven laid to sleep in a manger ; the holy Jesus, 
who knew no sin, bearing the sins of men in his 
body on the tree; and the sovereign of life stretch- 
ing his arms on a cross, bleeding and expiring : 
The heaven and the hell in our divinity are infi- 
nitely more delightful and dreadful than the child- 
ish figments of a dog with three heads, the buckets 
of the Belides, the Furies with snaky hairs, or all 
the flowery stories of Elysium. And if we sur- 
vey the one as themes divinely true, and the other 
as a medley of fooleries which we can never be- 
lieve : the advantage for touching the springs of 
passion will fall infinitely on the side of the Chris- 
tian poet ; our wonder and our love, our pity, de- 
light, and sorrow, with the long train of hopes and 
fears, must needs be under the command of an 



harmonious pen, whose every line makes a part 
of the reader's faith, and is the very life or death 
of his soul. 

If the trifling incredible tales that furnish out 
a tragedy, are so armed by wit and fancy, as to 
become sovereign of rational powers, to triumph 
over all the affections, and manage our smiles and 
our tears at pleasure ; how wondrous a conquest 
might be obtained over a wild world, and reduce 
it, at least, to sobriety, if the same happy talent 
were employed in dressing the scenes of religion 
in their proper figures of majesty, sweetness, and 
terror. The w^onders of creating power, of re- 
deeming love, and renewing grace, ought not to 
be thus impiously neglected by those whom heaven 
has endued with a gift so proper to adorn and cul- 
tivate them ; an art whose sweet insinuations might 
almost convey piety in resisting nature, and melt 
the hardest souls to the love of virtue. The af- 
fairs of this life, with their reference to a life to 
come, would shine bright in a dramatic descrip- 
tion ; nor is there any need of any reason why 
we should always borrow the plan or history from 
the ancient Jews, or primitive martyrs; though 
several of these would be better understood by 
most readers, and the application would be much 
more easy. The anguish of inward guilt, the 
secret stings, and racks and scourges of conscience ; 
the sweet retiring hours, and seraphical joys of 
devotion ; the victory of a resolved soul over a 



PREFACE. XCV 

thousand temptations; the inimitable love and 
passion of a dying God ; the awful glories of the 
last tribunal; the grand decisive sentence, from 
which there is no appeal; and the consequent 
transports or horrors of the two eternal worlds ; 
these things may be variously disposed, and form 
many poems. How might such performances, 
under a divine blessing, call back the dying piety 
of the nation to life and beauty ! This would 
make religion appear like itself, and confound the 
blasphemies of a profligate world, ignorant of 
pious pleasures. 

But we have reason to fear, that the tuneful 
men of our day have not raised their ambition to 
so divine a pitch ; I should rejoice to see more of 
this celestial fire kindling within them ; for the 
flashes that break out in some present and past 
writings betray an infernal source. This the in- 
comparable Mr. Cowley, in the latter end of his 
preface, and the ingenious Sir Richard Blackmore, 
in the beginning of his, have so pathetically de- 
scribed and lamented, that I rather refer the reader 
to mourn with them, than detain and tire him here. 
These gentlemen, in their large and laboured 
works of poesy, have given the world happy ex- 
amples of what they wish and encourage in prose ; 
the one in a rich variety of thought and fancy, the 
other in all the shining colours of profuse and flo- 
rid diction. 

If shorter sonnets were composed on sublime 



subjects, such as the Psalms of David, and the 
holy transports interspersed in the other sacred 
writings, or such as the moral Odes of Horace, 
and the ancient Lyricks ; I persuade myself that 
the Christian preacher would find abundant aid 
from the poet, in his design to diffuse virtue and 
allure souls to God. If the heart were first in- 
flamed from Heaven, and the muse were not left 
alone to form the devotion, and pursue a cold scent, 
but only called in as an assistant to the worship, 
then the song would end where the inspiration 
ceases ; the whole composure would be of a piece, 
all meridian light and meridian fervour ; and the 
same pious flame would be propagated, and kept 
• glowing in the heart of him that reads. Some of 
the shorter odes of the two poets now mentioned, 
and a few of the Rev. Mr, Norris's Essays in 
verse, are convincing instances of the success of 
this proposal. 

It is my opinion also, that the free and uncon- 
fined numbers of Pindar, or the noble measures 
of Milton without rhyme, would best maintain the 
dignity of the theme, as well as give a loose to the 
devout soul, nor check the raptures of her faith 
and love. Though, in my feeble attempts of this 
kind, I have too often fettered my thoughts in the 
narrow metre of our Psalm translators : I have 
contracted and cramped the sense, or rendered it 
obscure and feeble, by the too speedy and regular 
returns of rhyme. 



If my friends expect any reason of the fol- 
lowing composures, and of the first or second 
publication, I entreat them to accept of this ac- 
count. 

The title assures them that poesy is not the 
business of my life ; and if I seized those hours 
of leisure, wherein my soul was in a more sprightly 
frame, to entertain them or myself with a divine 
or moral song, I hope I shall find an easy par- 
don. 

In the First Book are many odes which were 
written to assist the meditations and worship of 
vulgar Christians, and with a design to be pub- 
lished in the volume of hymns, which have now • 
passed a second impression ; but upon the review, 
I found some expressions that were not suited to 
the plainest capacity, and the metaphors are too 
bold to please the weaker Christian : therefore I 
have allotted them a place here. 

Among the songs that are dedicated to divine 
love, I think I may be bold to assert that I never 
composed one line of them with any other design 
than what they are applied to here ; and I have 
endeavored to secure them all from being per- 
verted and debased to wanton passions, by seve- 
ral lines in them that can never ba applied to a 
meaner love. Are not the noblest instances of 
the grace of Christ represented under the figure 
of a conjugal state, and described in one of the 
sweetest odes, and the softest pastoral that ever 

G 



XCVIU PREFACE. 

was written ? I appeal to Solomon,* in his song, 
and his father David, in Psalm xlv. if David was 
the author : and I am well assured that I have 
never indulged an equal license : it was danger- 
ous to imitate the sacred writers too nearly, in so 
nice an affair. 

The 'Poems sacred to Virtue,' &c. were 
formed when the frame and humour of my soul 
were just suited to the subject of my verse : the 
image of my heart is painted in them : and if they 
meet with a reader whose soul is akin to mine, 
perhaps they may agi^eeably entertain him. The 
dulness of the fancy, and coarseness of expres- 
sion, will disappear ; the sameness of the humour 
will create a pleasure, and insensibly overcome 
and conceal the defects of the muse. Young gen- 
tlemen and ladies, whose genius and education have 
given them a relish for oratory and verse, may 
be tempted to seek satisfaction among the danger- 
ous diversions of the stage, and impure sonnets, if 
there be no provision of a safer kind made to 
please them. While I have attempted to gratify 
innocent fancy in this respect, I have not forgotten 
to allure the heart to virtue, and to raise it to a 
disdain of brutal pleasures. The frequent inter- 
position of a devout thought may awaken the 
mind to a serious sense of God, religion, and eter- 

* Solomon's Song was much more in use among preachers 
and writers of divinity when these Poems were written than 
it is now. 



nity. The same duty that might be despised in 
a sermon, when proposed to their reason, may 
here, perhaps, seize the lower faculties with sur- 
prise, delight, and devotion at once ; and thus, by 
degrees, draw the superior powers of the mind to 
piety. Among the infinite numbers of mankind, 
there is not more difference in their outward shape 
and features, than in their temper and inward in- 
clination. Some are more easily susceptive of 
religion in a grave discourse and sedate reasoning. 
Some are best frighted from sin and ruin by ter- 
ror, threatening, and amazement ; their fear is the 
properest passion to which we can address our- 
selves, and begin the divine work : others can feel 
no motive. so powerful as that which applies itself 
to their ingenuity and polished imagination. Now 
I thought it lawful to take hold of any handle of 
the soul, to lead it away betimes from vicious 
pleasures ; and if I could but make up a composi- 
tion of virtue and delight, suited to the taste of 
well-bred youth, and a refined education, I had 
some hope to allure and raise them thereby above 
the vile temptations of degenerate nature, and 
custom that is yet more degenerate. When I 
have felt a slight inclination to satire or burlesque, 
I thought proper to suppress it. The grinning 
and the growling muses are not hard to be ob- 
tained ; but I would disdain their assistance, where 
a manly invitation to virtue, and a friendly smile, 
may be successfully employed. Could I persuade 



any man by a kinder method, I should never 
think it proper to scold or laugh at him. 

Perhaps there are some morose readers, that 
stand ready to condemn every line that is written 
upon the theme of love ; but have we not the cares 
and the felicities of that sort of social life repre- 
sented to us in the sacred writings ? Some ex- 
pressions are there used with a design to give a 
mortifying influence to our softest affections ; oth- 
ers again brighten the character of that state, and 
allure virtuous souls to pursue the divine advan- 
tage of it, the mutual assistance in the way to 
salvation. 

Are not the cxxviith and the cxxviiith Psalms 
indited on this very subject? Shall it be lawful 
for the press and the pulpit to treat of it with a 
becoming solemnity in prose, and must the men- 
tion of the same thing in poesy be pronounced for 
ever unlawful ? Is it utterly unworthy of a seri- 
ous character to write on this argument, because 
it has been unhappily polluted by some scurrilous 
pens ? Why may I not be permitted to obviate a 
common and a growing mischief, while a thousand 
vile poems of the amorous kind swarm abroad, 
and give a vicious taint to the unwary reader ? I 
would tell the world that I have endeavored to 
recover this argument out of the hands of impure 
writers, and to make it appear, that virtue and 
love are not such strangers as they are repre- 
sented. The blissful intimacy of souls in that 



state will afford sufficient furniture for the gravest 
entertainment in verse; so that it need not be 
everlastingly dressed-up in ridicule, nor assumed 
only to furnish out the lewd sonnets of the times. 
May some happier genius promote the same ser- 
vice that I proposed, and by superior sense, and 
sweeter sound, render what I have written con- 
temptible and useless ! 

The imitations of that noblest Latin poet of 
modern ages, Casimire Sarbiewski, of Poland, 
would need no excuse, did they but rise to the 
beauty of the original. I have often taken the 
freedom to add ten or twenty lines, or to leave out 
as many, that I might suit my song more to my 
own design, or because I saw it impossible to pre- 
sent the force, the fineness, and the fire of his 
expression in our language. There are a few co- 
pies wherein I have borrowed some hints from 
the same author, without the mention of his name 
in the title. Methinks I can allow so superior a 
genius now and then to be lavish in his imagina- 
tion, and to indulge some excursions beyond the 
limits of sedate judgment : the riches and glories 
of his verse make atonement in abundance. I 
wish some English pen would import more of his 
treasures, and bless our nation. 

The inscriptions to particular friends are war- 
ranted and defended by the practice of almost all 
the Lyric writers. They frequently convey the 
rigid rules of morality to the mind in the softer 



method of applause. Sustained bj their exam- 
ple, a man will not easily be overwhelmed by the 
heaviest censures of the unthinking and unknow- 
ing; especially when there is a shadow of this 
practice in the divine Psalmist, while he ascribes 
to Asaph or Jeduthun his songs that were made 
for the harp, or (which is all one) his Lyric odes, 
though they are addressed to God himself. 

In the ' Poems of Heroic Measure,' I have at- 
tempted in rhyme the same variety of cadence, 
comma, and period, which blank verse glories in 
as its peculiar elegance and ornament. It de- 
grades the excellency of the best versification, 
when the lines run on by couplets, twenty toge- 
ther, just in the same pace, and with the same 
pauses. It spoils the noblest pleasure of the 
sound : the reader is tired with the tedious uni- 
formity, or charmed to sleep with the unmanly 
softness of the numbers, and the perpetual chime 
of even cadences. 

In the ' Essays without Rhyme,' I have not set 
up Milton for a perfect pattern : though he shall 
be for ever honoured as our deliverer from the 
bondage. His Avorks contain admirable and une- 
qualled instances of bright and beautiful diction, 
as well as majesty and serenity of thought. There 
are several episodes in his longer works, that 
stand in supreme dignity without a rival ; yet all 
that vast reverence with which I read his Para- 
dise Lost, cannot persuade me to be charmed with 



every page of it. The length of his periods, and 
sometimes of his parentheses, runs me out of 
breath. Some of his numbers seem too harsh and 
uneasy. I could never believe that roughness 
and obscurity added any thing to the grandeur of 
a poem ; nor will I ever affect archasms, exoti- 
cisms, and a quaint uncouthness of speech, in or- 
der to become perfectly Miltonian. It is my opi- 
nion that blank verse may be written with all due 
elevation of thought, in a modern style, without 
borrowing any thing from Chaucer's tales, or run- 
ning back so far as to the days of Colin the shep- 
herd, and the reign of the Faery Queen. The 
oddness of an antique sound gives but a false 
pleasure to the ear, and abuses the true relish, 
even when it works delight. There were some 
such judges of poesy among the old Romans ; 
and Martial ingeniously laughs at one of them, 
that was pleased, even to astonishment, with obso- 
lete words and figures : 

Attonitusque legis terrai frugiferai. 

So the ill-drawn postures and distortions of shape 
that we meet with in Chinese pictures charm a sickly 
fancy by their very awkwardness : so a distem- 
pered appetite will chew coals and sand and pro- 
nounce it gustful. 

In the Pindarics, I have generally conformed 
my lines to t\e shorter size of the ancients, and 
avoided to imitate the excessive length to which 



some modern writers have stretched their sen- 
tences, especially the concluding verse. In these 
the ear is the truest judge ; nor was it made to 
be enslaved to any precise model of elder or later 
times. 

After all, I must petition my reader to lay aside 
the sour and sullen air of criticism, and to assume 
the friend. Let him choose such topics to read 
at particular hours, when the temper of his mind 
is suited to the song. Let him come with a de- 
sire to be entertained and pleased, rather than to 
seek his own disgust and aversion, which will not 
be hard to find. I am not so vain as to think 
there are no faults, nor so blind as to espy none : 
though I hope the multitude of alteratJons in this 
second edition are not without amendment. There 
is so large a difference between this and the for- 
mer, in the change of titles, lines, and whole po- 
ems, as in the various transpositions, that it would 
be useless, and endless, and all confusion, for any 
reader to compare them throughout. The addi- 
tions also make up half the book, and some of 
these have need of as many alterations as the 
former. Many a line needs the file to polish the 
roughness of it, and many a thought wants richer 
language to adorn and make it shine. Wide de- 
fects and equal superfluities maybe found, especial- 
ly in the larger pieces ; but I have at present nei- 
ther inclination nor leisure to correct, and I hope 
I never shall. It is one of the greatest satisfac- 



tions I take in giving this volume to the world, 
that I expect to be for ever free from the tempta- 
tions of making or mending poems again.* So 
that my friends may be perfectly secure against 
this impression growing waste upon their hands, 
and useless, as the former has done. Let minds 
that are better furnished for such performances 
pursue these studies, if they are convinced that 
poesy can be made serviceable to religion and vir- 
tue. As for myself, I almost blush to think that 
I have read so little, and written so much. The 
following years of my life shall be more entirely 
devoted to the immediate and direct labours of 
my station, excepting those hours that may be 
employed in finishing the Psalms of David, in 
Christian language, which I have now promised 
the world.f 

I cannot court the w^orld to purchase this book 
for their pleasure or entertainment, by telling 
them that any one copy pleases me. The best of 
them sinks below the idea which I form of a 
divine or a moral ode. He that deals in the mys- 
teries of heaven, or of the muses, should be a 
genius of no vulgar mould : And as the name 

* Naturam eospellas furca licet, usque recurrel. Hor. Will 
this short note of Horace, excuse a man who has resisted 
nature many years, but has been sometimes overcome? 

t In the year 1719 these were finished and printed. 



Vates belong to both, so the furniture of both is 
comprised in that line of Horace, 

.... Cui mens divinior, atque os 
Magna sonaturum .... 

But what Juvenal spake in his age, abides true 
in ours : A complete poet or prophet is such a 
one: 

. . . Qualem nequeo monstrare, et sentio tantum. 

Perhaps neither of these characters in perfec- 
tion shall ever be seen on earth, till the seventh 
angel has sounded his awful trumpet ; till the vic- 
tory be complete over the beast and his image, 
when the natives of heaven shall join in concert 
with prophets and saints, and sing to their golden 
harps, * Salvation, honour, and glory, to Him that 
sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever.' 
May 14, 1709. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 



HORiE LYRICS. 

BOOK I. 
SACRED TO DEVOTION AND PIETY. 

WORSHIPPING WITH FEAR. 

Who dares attempt the eternal name, 
With notes of mortal sound ? 

Dangers and glories guard the theme, 
And spread despair around. 

Destruction waits to obey his frown, 
Ajid Heaven attends his smile : 

A wreath of lightning arms his crown, 
But love adorns it still. 

Celestial King ! our spirits lie. 
Trembling, beneath thy feet, 

And wish, and cast a longing eye. 
To reach thy lofty seat. 
1 



HORiE LYRICS. 

When shall we see the Great Unknown, 

And in thy presence stand? 
Reveal the splendours of thy throne, 

But shield us with thy hand. 

In thee what endless wonders meet! 

What various glory shines ! 
The crossing rays too fiercely beat 

Upon our fainting minds. 

Angels are lost in sweet surprise 

If thou unveil thy grace ; 
And humble awe runs through the skies, 

When wrath arrays thy face. 

When mercy joins with majesty, 
To spread their beams abroad, 

Not all their fairest minds on high 
Are shadows of a God. 

Thy works the strongest seraph sings 

In a too feeble strain, 
And labors hard on all his strings 

To reach thy thoughts in vain. 

Created powers, how weak they be ! 

How short our praises fall ! 
So much akin to nothing we. 

And thou the eternal All. 



UOUJE LYRICS. 



ASKING LEAVE TO SING. 

Yet, mighty God indulge my tongue, 

Nor let thy thunders roar, 
Whilst the young notes and venturous song 

To worlds of glory soar. 

If thou my daring flight forbid. 

The muse folds up her wings ; 
Or at thy word her slender reed 

Attempts almighty things. 

Her slender reed, inspired by thee. 

Bids a new Eden grow. 
With blooming life on every tree, 

And spreads a heaven below. 

She mocks the trumpet's loud alarms. 
Filled with thy dreadful breath : 

And calls the angelic hosts to arms. 
To give the nations death. 

But when she tastes her Saviour's love. 

And feels the rapture strong. 
Scarce the divinest harp above 

Aims at a sweeter song. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 



DIVINE JUDGIVIENTS. 

Not from the dust my sorrows spring, 

Nor drop my comforts from the lower skies : 
Let all the baneful planets shed 
Their mingled curses on my head, 

How vain their curses, if the eternal King 

Look thro' the clouds and bless me with his eyes ! 
Creatures, with all their boasted sway. 
Are but his slaves and must obey ; 
They w^ait their orders from above, 

And execute his word, the vengeance, or the love. 

'Tis by a warrant from his hand, 

The gentler gales are bound to sleep : 
The north wind blusters and assumes command 

Over the desert and the deep ; 

Old Boreas with his freezing powers. 
Turns the earth iron, makes the ocean glass. 
Arrests the dancing rivulets as they pass, 

And chains them moveless to their shores ; 
The grazing ox lows to the gelid skies, 
Walks o'er the marble meads with withering eyes, 
Walks o'er the solid lakes, snuffs up the wind, and 
dies. 

Fly to the polar world my song. 
And mourn the pilgrims there (a wretched throng !) 



HOR^ LYRICS. O 

Seized and bound in rigid chains, 

A troop of statues on the Russian plains, 

And life stands frozen in the purple veins. 

Atheist, forbear ; no more blaspheme : 
God has a thousand terrors in his name, 

A thousand armies at command, 

AYaiting the signal of his hand. 
And magazines of frost, and magazines of flame. 

Dress thee in steel to meet his wrath ; 

His sharp artillery from the north 
Shall pierce thee to the soul, and shake thy mor- 
tal frame. 

Sublime on winter's rugged wings 

He rides in arms along the sky. 
And scatters fate on swains and kings ; 

And flocks, and herds, and nations die ; 

"While impious lips, profanely bold. 
Grow pale ; and, quivering at his dreadful cold. 

Give their own blasphemies the lie. 

The mischiefs that infest the earth. 
When the hot dog-star fires the realms on high. 

Drought, and disease, and cruel dearth. 
Are but the flashes of a wrathful eye 

From the incens'd divinity. 

In vain our parching palates thirst, 
For vital food we cry, 

And pant for vital breath ; 

The verdant fields are burnt to dust. 

The sun has drunk the channels dry, 



b HORJL LYRICS. 

And all tlie air is death. 
Ye scourges of our Maker's rod, 
'Tis at his dread command, at his imperial nod. 
You deal your various plagues abroad. 

Hail, whirlwinds, hurricanes, and floods, 
That all the leafy standards strip. 
And bear down with a mighty sweep 
The riches of the fields and honours of the woods : 
Storms, that ravage o'er the deep, 
And bury millions in the waves ; 
Earthquakes, that in midnight sleep 
Turn cities into heaps, and make our beds our 
graves ; 
While you dispense your mortal harms, 
'Tis the Creator's voice that sounds your loud 

alarms. 
When guilt, with louder cries, provokes a God to 
arms. 

for a message from above 

To bear my spirits up ! 

Some pledge of my Creator's love 
To calm my terrors and support my hope ! 

Let waves and thunders mix and roar, 
Be thou my God, and the whole world is mine : 

While thou art Sovereign, I'm secure : 

1 shall be rich till thou art poor ; 

For all I fear, and all I wish, heaven, earth and 
hell are thine. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 



EARTH AND HEAYEN. 

Hast thou not seen, impatient boy ? 

Hast thou not read the solemn truth, • 
That gray experience writes for giddy youth 
On every mortal joy? 
' Pleasure must be dash'd with pain : ' 
And yet, with heedless haste. 
The thirsty boy repeats the taste. 
Nor hearkens to despair, but tries the bowl again. 
The rills of pleasure never run sincere ; 

(Earth has no unpolluted spring) 
From the curs'd soil some dangerous taint they 

bear; 
So roses grow on thorns, and honey wears a sting. 

In vain we seek a heaven below the sky ; 

The world has false, but flattering, charms : 
Its distant joys show big in our esteem. 
But lessen still as they draw near the eye ; 
In our embrace the visions die. 
And when we grasp the airy forms, 
We lose the pleasing dream. 

Earth, with her scenes of gay delight, 
Is but a landscape, rudely drawn, 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 

With glaring colors, and false light ; 
Distance commends it to the sight, 
For fools to gaze upon ; 

But bring the nauseous daubing nigh. 

Coarse and confus'd, the hideous figures lie, f / 
Dissolve the pleasure, and offend the eye. 

Look up, my soul, pant toward the eternal hills ; 

Those heavens are fairer than they seem ; 
There pleasures all sincere glide on in crystal rills. 
There not a dreg of guilt defiles. 
Nor grief disturbs the stream. 
That Canaan knows no noxious thing, 
No curs'd soil, no tainted spring. 
Nor roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting. 



FELICITY ABOVE. 

No, 'tis in vain to seek for bliss ; 

For bliss can ne'er be found 
Till we arrive where Jesus is. 

And tread on heavenly ground. 

There 's nothing round these painted skies, 

Or round this dusty clod ; 
Nothing, my soul, that's worth thy joys, 

Or lovely as thy God. 



nORM LYRICS. 

'Tis heaven on earth to taste his love, 

To feel his quickening grace ; 
And all the heaven I hope above 

Is but to see his face. 

Why move my years in slow delay ? 

God of ages ! why ? 
Let all the spheres cleave, and mark my way 

To the superior sky. 

Dear Sovereign, break these vital strings 

That bind me to my clay ; 
Take me, Uriel, on thy wings, 

And stretch and soar away. 



GOD'S DOMINION AND DECREES. 

Keep silence, all created things. 

And wait your Maker's nod : 
The muse stands trembling while she sings 

The honours of her God. 

Life, death, and hell, and worlds unknown, 

Hang on his firm decree : 
He sits on no precarious throne, 

Nor borrows leave to be. 



10 HOR^ LYRICS. 

The almighty Voice bid ancient Night 
Her endless realms resign, 

And lo, ten thousand globes of light 
In fields of azure shine. 

Now wisdom, with superior sway, 
Guides the vast moving frame, 

Whilst all the ranks of beings pay 
Deep reverence to his name. 

He spake : the sun obedient stood. 

And held the falHng day ; 
Old Jordan backward drives his flood, 

And disappoints the sea. 

Lord of the armies of the sky. 
He marshals all the stars ; 

Red comets lift their banners high, 
And w^ide proclaim his wars. 

Chain'd to his throne, a volume lies, 

With all the fates of men, 
With every angel's form and size. 

Drawn by the eternal pen. 

His providence unfolds the book. 
And makes his counsels shine : 

Each opening leaf, and every stroke, 
Fulfils some deep design. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 11 

Here he exalts neglected worms 

To sceptres and a crown ; 
Anon the following page he turns, 

And treads the monarchs down. 

Not Gabriel asks the reason why. 

Nor God the reason gives ; 
Nor dares the favourite angel pry 

Between the folded leaves. 

My God, I never long'd to see 

My fate with curious eyes, 
What gloomy lines are writ for me, 

Or what bright scenes shall rise. 

In thy fair book of life and grace 

May I but find my name, 
Eecorded in some humble place 

Beneath my Lord the Lamb ! 



SELF CONSECRATION. 

It grieves me, Lord, it grieves me sore, 
That I have liv'd to thee no more. 

And wasted half my days ; 
My inward powers shall burn and flame, 



12 HOR^ LYRICS. 

With zeal and passion for thy name, 
I would not speak, but for my God, nor move, but 
to his praise. 

What are my eyes but aids to see 
The glories of the Deity, 

Inscrib'd with beams of light 
On flowers and stars ? Lord, I behold 
The shining azure, green and gold ; 
But when I try to read thy name, a dimness veils 
my sight. 

Mine ears are rais'd when Virgil sings 
Sicilian swains, or Trojan kings, 

And drink the music in ; 
Why should the trumpet's brazen voice, 
Or oaten reed awake my joys. 
And yet my heart so stupid lie, when sacred 
hymns begin? 

Change me, God ; my flesh shall be 
An instrument of song to thee, 
And thou the notes inspire : 
My tongue shall keep the heavenly chime, 
My cheerful pulse shall beat the time, 
And sweet variety of sound shall in thy praise 
conspire. 

The dearest nerve about my heart, 
Should it refuse to bear a part. 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 13 

With my melodious breath, 
I 'd tear away the vital chord, 
A bloody victim to my Lord, 
And live without that impious string, or show my 
zeal in death. 



THE CREATOR AND CREATURES. 

God is a name my soul adores. 
The Almighty Three, the Eternal One ; 
Nature and grace, with all their powers, 
Confess the infinite Unknown. 

From thy great Self thy being springs ; 
Thou art thy own original, 
Made up of uncreated things, 
And self-sufficience bears them all. 

Thy voice produc'd the seas and spheres, 
Bid the weaves roar, and planets shine ; 
But nothing like thyself appears, 
Through all these spacious works of thine. 

Still restless nature dies and grows ; 
From change to change the creatures run : 
Thy being no succession knows. 
And all thy vast designs are one. 



14 HOR^ LYRICS. 

A glance of thine runs through the globes, 
Rules the bright world, and moves their frame 
Broad sheets of light compose thy robes ; 
Thy guards are form'd of living flame. 

Thrones and dominions round thee fall, 
And worship in submissive forms ; 
Thy presence shakes this lower ball, 
This little dwelling-place of worms. 

How shall affrighted mortals dare 
To sing thy glory or thy grace. 
Beneath thy feet we lie so far. 
And see but shadows of thy face ? 

Who can behold the blazing light ; 
Who can approach consuming flame ? 
None but thy wisdom knows thy might ; 
None but thy word can speak thy name. 



THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 

' Shepherds, rejoice, lift up your eyes, 
" And send your fears away ; 

' News from the region of the skies, 
" Salvation 's born to day. 



HOKJi: LYRICS. 15 

" Jesus, the God whom angels fear, 
" Comes down to dwell with you ; 

" To-daj he makes his entrance here, 
" But not as monarchs do. 

" No gold, nor purple swaddling-bands, 

" Nor royal shining things ; 
"A manger for his cradle stands, 

" And holds the King of kings. 

" Go, shepherds, where the infant lies, 

" And see his humble throne ; 
" With tears of joy in all your eyes, 

" Go, shepherds, kiss the Son." 

Thus Gabriel sang, and straight around, 

The heavenly armies throng. 
They tune their harps to lofty sound. 

And thus conclude the song : 

" Glory to God, that reigns above, 

" Let peace surround the earth ; 
" Mortals shall know their Maker's love, 

" At their Redeemer's birth." 

Lord ! and shall angels have their songs. 

And men no tunes to raise ? 
may we lose these useless tongues 

When they forget to praise ! 



16 HORiE LYRICS. 

Glory to God that reigns above, 

That pitied us forlorn, 
We join to sing our Maker's love, 

For there *s a Saviour born. 



GOD GLORIOUS, AND SINNERS SAVED. 

Father, how wide thy glory shines ! 

How high thy wonders rise ! 
Known through the earth by thousand signs. 

By thousand through the skies. 

Those mighty orbs proclaim thy power. 

Their motions speak thy skill ; 
And on the wings of every hour, 

We read thy iDatience still. 

Part of thy name divinely stands 

On all thy creatures writ, 
They shew the labour of thine hands, 

Or impress of thy feet. 

But when we view thy strange design 

To save rebellious worms, 
Where vengeance and compassion join 

In their divinest forms ; 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 17 

Our thoughts are lost in reverend awe : 

"We love and we adore ; 
The first archangel never saw 

So much of God before. 

Here the whole Deity is known, 

Nor dares a creature guess 
Which of the glories brightest shone, 

The justice or the grace. 

When sinners broke the Father's laws. 

The dying Son atones ; 
Oh, the dear mysteries of his cross ! 

The triumph of his groans ! 

Now the full glories of the Lamb 

Adorn the heavenly plains ; 
Sweet cherubs learn Immanuel's name, 

And try their choicest strains. 

may I bear some humble part 

In that immortal song ! 
Wonder and joy shall tune my heart 

And love command my tongue. 



18 nORJE LYRICiE. 

THE HUMBLE ENQUIRY. 

A FRENCH SONNET IMITATED. 1695. 
" Grand Dieu, tes Jugemens." &;c. 

Grace rules below, and sits enthron'd above, 
How few tlie sparks of wrath ! how slow they move, 
And drop and die in boundless seas of love ! 

But me, vile wretch ! should pitying love embrace 
Deep in its ocean, hell itself would blaze. 
And flash and burn me thro' the boundless seas. 

Yea, Lord, my guilt to such a vastness grown 
Seems to confine thy choice to wrath alone, 
And calls thy power to vindicate thy throne. 

Thine honour bids, "Avenge thy injur'd name," 
Thy slighted loves a dreadful glory claim, 
While my moist tears might but incense thy flame. 

Should heaven grow black, almighty thunder roar. 
And vengeance blast me, I could plead no more. 
But own thy justice, dying, and adore. 

Yet can those bolts of death that cleave the flood 
To reach a rebel, pierce this sacred shroud. 
Tinged in the vital stream of my Redeemer's blood ? 



HOR^ LYRICS. 19 



THE PENITENT PAEDONED. 

Hence from my soul, my sins, depart. 
Your fatal friendsliip now I see ; 
Long have you dwelt too near my heart, 
Hence, to eternal distance flee. 

Ye gave my dying Lord his wound, 
Yet I caressed your viperous brood, 
And in my heart-strings lapped you round, 
You, the vile murderers of my God. 

Black heavy thoughts, like mountains, roll 
O'er my poor breast, with boding fears, 
And crushing hard my tortured soul, 
Wring through my eyes the briny tears. 

Forgive my treasons. Prince of grace ! 
The bloody Jews were traitors too. 
Yet thou hast pray'd for that curs'd race, 
" Father, they know not what they do." 

Great Advocate, look down and see 
A wretch, whose smarting sorrows bleed ; 
O plead the same excuse for me ! 
For, Lord, I knew not what I did. 



20 HOR.E LYRIC-aE. 

Peace, my complaints ; let every groan 
Be still, and silence wait his love ; 
Compassions dwell amidst his throne, 
And through his inmost bowels move. 

Lo, from the everlasting skies. 
Gently, as morning-dews distil. 
The dove immortal downward flies, 
"With peaceful olive in his bill. 

How sweet the voice of pardon sounds ! 
Sweet the relief to deep distress ! 
I feel the balm that heals my wounds. 
And all my powers adore the grace. 



A HYMN OF PRAISE FOR THREE GREAT 
SALVATIONS. 



1. From the Spanish Invasion, 1588. 

2. From the Gunpowder Plot, Nov. 5, 1605. 

3. From Popery and Slavery, by King William, of glorious 

memory, who landed Nov. 5, 1688. 

Infinite God, thy counsels stand 
Like mountains of eternal brass. 
Pillars to proj) our sinking land. 
Or guardian rocks to break the seas. 



HOR^ LTRICJE. 21 

From 2)ole to pole thy name is known, 
Thee a whole heaven of angels praise ; 
Our labouring tongues would reach thy throne 
With the loud triumphs of thy grace. 

Part of thy church, by thy command, 
Stands rais'd upon the British isles ; 
" There," said the Lord, " to ages stand, 
" Firm as the everlasting hills." 

In vain the Spanish ocean roared ; 
Its billows swelled against our shore, 
Its billows sunk beneath thy word. 
With all the floating war they bore. 

" Come, said the sons of bloody Rome, 

Let us provide new arms from hell : " 

And down they digg'd thro' earth's dark womb, 

And ransack'd all the burning cell. 

Old Satan lent them fiery stores, 
Infernal coal, and sulphurous flame. 
And all that burns, and all that roars, 
Outrageous fires of dreadful name. 

Beneath the Senate and the throne. 
Engines of hellish thunder lay ; 
There the dark seeds of fire were sown. 
To spring a bright but dismal day. 



Tl HORiE LYRICS. 

Thy love beheld the black design, 
Thy love that guards our island round ; 
Strange ! how it quench'd the fiery mine, 
And crush'd the tempest under ground. 

THE SECOND PART. 

Assume, my tongue, a nobler strain. 
Sing the new wonders of the Lord ; 
The foes revive their powers again, 
Again they die beneath his sword. 

Dark as our thoughts our minutes roll. 
While tyranny possess'd the throne. 
And murderers of an Irish soul 
Ran, threatening death, through every town. 

The Roman priest, and British prince, 
Join'd their best force, and blackest charms. 
And the fierce troops of neighbouring France 
Offer'd the service of their arms. 

" 'Tis done," they cry'd, and laugh'd aloud. 
The courts of darkness rang with joy, 
The old Serpent hiss'd, and hell grew proud, 
While Zion mourn'd her ruin nigh. 

But lo, the great Deliverer sails, 
Commission'd from Jehovah's hand. 
And smiling seas, and wishing gales 
Convey him to the longing land. 



HORiE LYRICS. 23 

The happy day,^ and happy year, 
Both in our new salvation meet : 
The day^ that quench'd the burning snare, 
The year that burnt the invading fleet. 

Now did thine arm, God of Hosts, 
Now did thine arm shine dazzling bright. 
The sons of might their hands had lost, 
And men of blood forgot to fight. 

Brigades of angels lin'd the way, 
And guarded "William to his throne . 
There, ye celestial warriors, stay. 
And make his palace like your own. 

Then, mighty God, the Earth shall know 
And learn the worship of the sky ; 
Angels and Britons join below, 
To raise their hallelujahs high. 

All hallelujah, heavenly King ; 
While distant lands thy victory sing, 
And tongues their utmost powers employ. 
The world's bright roof repeats the joy. 

iNov. 5, 1688. 2 Nov. 5, 1588. 



24 HOR^ LYRICJE. 



THE INCOMPKEHENSIBLE. 

Far in the heavens my God retires, 
My God, the mark of my desires, 

And hides his lovely face ; 
When he descends within my view, 
He charms my reason to pursue. 
But leaves it tir'd and fainting in the unequal 
chase. 

Or if I reach unusual height 

Till near his presence brought, 
There floods of glory check my flight, 
Cramp the bold pinions of my wit. 

And all untune my thought ; 
Plung'd in a sea of light I roll, 
Where wisdom, justice, mercy, shines ; 
Infinite rays in crossing Hnes 
Beat thick confusion on my sight, and overwhelm 
my soul. 

Come to my aid, ye fellow-minds, 
And help me reach the throne ; 

(What single strength, in vain designs. 
United force hath done ; 



HOR.E LYRICS. 25 

Thus worms may join, and grasp the poles, 

Thus atoms fill the sea) 
But the whole race of creature-souls 
Stretch'd to their last extent of thought, plunge 
and are lost in thee. 

Great God ! behold my reason lies 
Adoring ; yet my love would rise 

On pinions not her own ; 
Faith shall direct her humble flight. 
Through all the trackless seas of light. 
To thee, the eternal Fair, the infinite Unknown, 



DEATH AND ETERNITY. 

My thoughts that often mount the skies, 
Go, search the world beneath, 

Where nature in all ruin lies, 
And owns her sovereign, death. 

The tyrant, how he triumphs here ! 

His trophies spread around ! 
And heaps of dust and bones appear 

Through all the hollow ground. 



26 HOR^ LYRIC.E. 

These skulls, what ghastly figures now ! 

How loathsome to the eyes ! 
These are the heads we lately knew 

So beauteous and so wise. 



That left his dying clay ? 
My thoughts, now stretch out all your wings, 
And trace eternity. 

that unfathomable sea ! 

Those deeps without a shore ! 
"Where living waters gently play, 

Or fiery billows roar. 

Thus must we leave the banks of life. 

And try this doubtful sea ; 
Vain are our groans, and dying strife. 

To gain a moment's stay. 

There we shall swim in heavenly bliss. 

Or sink in flaming waves, 
While the pale carcass thoughtless lies. 

Among the silent graves. 

Some hearty friend shall drop his tear. 

On our dry bones, and say, 
" These once were strong, as mine appear, 

''And mine must be as they." 



d 



nOR^ LTRIC.E. 27 

Tims shall our mouldering members teach 

What now our senses learn : 
For dust and ashes loudest preach 

Man's infinite concern. 



A SIGHT OF HEAVEN IN SICKNESS. 

Oft have I sat in secret sighs, 

To feel my flesh decaj, 
Then groan'd aloud with frighted eyes, 

To view the tottering clay. 

But I forbid my sorrows now. 
Nor dares the flesh complain ; 

Diseases bring their profit too ; 
The joy o'ercomes the pain. 

My cheerful soul now all the day 

Sits waiting here and sings ; 
Looks through the ruins of her clay, 

And practises her wings. 

Faith almost changes into sight, 

While from afar she spies. 
Her fair inheritance, in light. 

Above created skies. 



28 HORyE LYRICS. 

Had but the prison walls been strong, 

And firm without a flaw, 
In darkness she had dwelt too long. 

And less of glory saw. 

But now the everlasting hills 
Through every chink appear. 

And something of the -joy she feels 
While she 's a prisoner here. 

The shines of heaven rush sweetly in 

At all the gaping flaws : 
Visions of endless bliss are seen, 

And native air she draws. 

may these walls stand tottering still. 
The breaches never close. 

If I must here in darkness dwell, 
And all this glory lose ! 

Or rather let this flesh decay, 

The ruins wider grow, 
Till glad to see the enlarged way, 

I stretch my pinions through. 



HOKiE LTRICiE. 29 



THE UNIVERSAL HALLELUJAH. 

PSALM CXLVIII. PARAPHRASED. 

Praise ye tlie Lord with joyful tongue, 
Ye powers that guard his throne ; 

Jesus the man shall lead the song, 
The God inspire the tune. 

Gabriel, and all the immortal choir 

That fill the realms above ; 
Sing : for he form'd you of his fire, 

And feeds you with his love. 

Shine to his praise, ye crystal skies. 

The floor of his abode. 
Or veil your little twinkling eyes 

Before a brighter God. 

Thou restless globe of golden hght. 
Whose beams create our days. 

Join with the silver queen of night, 
To own your borrow'd rays. 



30 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Blusli and refund the honours paid 

To your inferior names : 
Tell the blind world, your orbs are fed 

By his o'erflowing flames. 

Winds, ye shall hear his name aloud 

Through the ethereal blue ; 
For when his chariot is a cloud, 

He makes his wheels of you. 

Thunder and hail, and fires and storms. 

The troops of his command, 
Appear in all your dreadful forms, 

And speak his awful hand. 

Shout to the Lord, ye surging seas, 

In your eternal roar ; 
Let wave to wave resound his praise, 

And shore reply to shore : 

While monsters sporting on the flood. 

In scaly silver shine. 
Speak terribly their maker God, 

And lash the foaming brine. 

But gentler things shall tune his name 

To softer notes than these, 
Young zephyrs breathing o'er the stream, 

Or whispering through the trees. 



HOR^E LYRICJE. 31 

Wave your tall heads, ye lofty pines, 

To liim that bid you grow, 
Sweet clusters, bend the fruitful vines 

On every thankful bough. 

Let the shrill birds his honour raise. 

And climb the morning sky ; 
While grovelling beasts attempt his praise. 

In hoarser harmony. 

Thus while the meaner creatures sing, 

Ye mortals, take the sound, 
Echo the glories of your king, 

Through all the nations round. 

The eternal name must fiy abroad. 

From Britain to Japan ; 
And the whole race shall bow to God 

That owns the name of man. 



THE ATHEIST'S MISTAKE. 

Laugh, ye profane, and swell and burst 

With bold impiety ; 
Yet shall ye live for ever curs'd. 

And seek in vain to die. 



32 HORJi: LYRICiE. 

The gasp of your expiring breath - 
Consigns your soul to chains, 

By the last agonies of death, 
Sent down to fiercer pains. 

Ye stand upon a dreadful steep, 

And all beneath is hell ; 
Your weighty guilt will sink you deep, 

Where the old serpent fell. 

When iron slumbers bind your flesh. 
With strange surprise, you '11 find 

Immortal vigour spring afresh. 
And tortures wake the mind ! 

Then you '11 confess the frightful names 
Of plagues you scorn'd before. 

No more shall look like idle dreams. 
Like foolish tales no more. 

Then shall ye curse that fatal day, 
(With flames upon your tongues) 

When you exchang'd your souls away 
For vanity and songs. 

Behold the saints rejoice to die. 

For heav'n shines round their heads ; 

And angel-guards, prepar'd to fly, 
Attend their fainting beds. 



HOE^ LYRICS. 

Their longing spirits part, and rise 

To their celestial seat ; 
Above these ruinable skies 

They make their last retreat. 

Hence, ye profane, I hate your ways, 

I walk with pious souls ; 
There ^s a wide diflference in our race, 

And distant are our goals. 



THE LAW GIVEN AT SESTAI. 

Arm thee with thunder, heav'nly Muse, 

And keep the expecting world in awe ; 

Oft hast thou sung in gentler mood 

The melting mercies of thy God ; 

Now give thy fiercest fires a loose. 

And sound his dreadful law ; 

To Israel first the words were spoke, 

To Israel freed from Egypt's yoke, 
Inhuman bondage ! The hard galling load, 

Overpress'd their feeble souls. 

Bent their knees to senseless bulls. 

And broke their ties to God. 

Now had they pass'd the Arabian Bay, 

And march'd between the cleaving sea ; 
The rising waves stood guardians of their wond'rous 
way. 3 



34 IIOR^ LYRICS. 

But fell with the most impetuous force 
On the pursuing swarms, 
And bury'd Egypt, all in arms, 

Blending, in watry death, the rider and the horse ; 

O'er struggling Pharaoh roll'd the mighty tide. 

And sav'd the labours of a pyramid. 
Apis and Ore ! in vain he cries, 
And all his horned gods beside — 
He swallows fate with swimming eyes, 
And curs'd the Hebrews as he died. 

Ah ! foolish Israel, to comply 
With Memphian idolatry ! 
And bow to brutes (a stupid slave,) 
To idols impotent to save ! 
Behold thy God, the Sov'reign of the sky. 
Has wrought salvation in the deep, 
Has bound thy foes in iron sleep, 
And rais'd thine honours high ; 
His grace forgives thy follies past ; 
Behold he comes in majesty, 
And Sinai's top proclaims his law : 
Prepare to meet thy God in haste ; 
But keep an awful distance still, 
Let Moses round the sacred hill 
The circling limits draw. 

Hark ! the shrill echoes of the trumpet roar. 
And call the trembling armies near ; 
Slow and unwilling they appear, 



HOR^ LYKICiE. 35 

Rails kept them from the mount before, 

Now from the rails their fear : 
'Twas the same herald, and the trump the same, 
Which shall be blown by high command. 
Shall bid the wheels of nature stand. 
And Heaven's eternal will proclaim, 

That " Time shall be no more." 

Thus, while the lab'ring angel swell'd the sound, 

And rent the skies, and shook the ground. 
Up rose the Almighty : round his sapphire seat, 

Adoring thrones in order fell ; 

The lesser powers at distance dwell. 
And cast their glories down successive at his feet : 

Gabriel the Great prepares his way, 
'' Lift up you heads, eternal doors," he cries : 

The eternal doors his word obey. 

Open, and shoot celestial day 
Upon the lower skies. 

Heaven's mighty pillars bow'd their heads, 
As their Creator bid. 
And down Jehovah rode from the superior sphere, 
A thousand guards before, and myriads in the rear. 

His chariot was a pitchy cloud ; 

The wheels beset with burning gems ; 
The winds in harness with the flames. 

Flew o'er the ethereal road : 
Down thro' his magazines he past 
Of hail, and ice, and fleecy snow, 



36 IIOK^ LYRICS. 

Swift roll'd the triumph, and as fast 
Did hail, and ice, and mehed rivers flow. 

The day was mingled with the night, 
His feet on solid darkness trod. 

His radiant eyes proclaim'd the God, 
And scatter'd dreadful light ; 
He breath'd, and sulphur ran, a fiery stream : 
He spoke, and, tho' with unknown speed he came, 
Chid the slow tempest and the lagging flame. 

Sinai receiv'd his glorious flight, 
With axle red, and glowing wheel 
Did the winged chariot light, 
And rising smoke obscur'd the burning hill. 
Lo, it mounts in curUng waves, 
Lo, the gloomy pride outbraves 
The stately pyramids of fire : 
The pyramids to heaven aspire. 
And mix with stars, but see their gloomy offspring 

higher. 
So have you seen ungrateful ivy grow 
Round the tall oak that sixscore years has stood, 

And proudly shoot a leaf or two 
Above its kind supporter's utmost bough. 
And glory there to stand the loftiest of the wood. 

Forbear, young muse, forbear ; 
The flow'ry things that poets say, 
The little arts of simile 
Are vain and useless here ; 



HORiE LYRICS. 37 

Nor shall the burning liills of old 
With Sinai be eompar'd, 
Nor all that lying Greece has told, 
Or learned Rome has heard ; 
-^tna shall be nam'd no more, 
-^tna, the torch of Sicily ; 
Not half so high 
Her lightnings fly, 
Not half so loud her thunders roar 
'Cross the Sicanian sea, to fright the Italian shore. 
Behold the sacred hill : its trembling spire 
Quakes at the terrors of the fire, 
While all below its verdant feet 
Stagger and reel under the Almighty weight : 
Press'd with a greater than feign'd Atlas' load. 
Deep groan'd the mount ; it never bore 
Infinity before. 
It bow'd and shook beneath the burden of a God. 

Fresh horrors seize the camp ; despair, 

And dying groans torment the air. 

And shrieks, and swoons, and deaths were there : 
The bellowing thunder, and the lightning's blaze 

Spread thro' the host a wild amaze ; 
Darkness on every soul, and pale was every face : 

Confus'd and dismal were the cries, 

" Let Moses speak, or Israel dies : " 

Moses the spreading terror feels, 

No more the man of God conceals 
His shivering and surprise ; 



38 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Yet, with recovering mind, commands 
Silence, and deep attention, through the Hebrew 
" bands. 

Hark ! from the centre of the flame. 
All arm'd and feather'd with the same. 

Majestic sounds break through the smoky cloud : 
Sent from the All-creating tongue, 
A flight of cherubs guard the words along. 

And bear their fiery law to the retreating crowd. 

" I am the Lord : 'tis I proclaim 
" That glorious and that fearful name, 
" Thy God and King : 'twas I that broke 
" Thy bondage, and the Egyptian yoke : 
" Mine is the right to s-peak my will, 
'' And thine the duty to fulfil. 
" Adore no God beside me, to provoke mine eyes : 
" Nor worship me in shapes and forms that men 

" devise ; 
" With reverence use my name, nor turn my words 

"to jest; 
" Observe my sabbath well, nor dare profane my 

" rest : 
" Honour and due obedience to thy parents give ; 
" Nor spill the guiltless blood, nor let the guilty live : 
" Preserve thy body chaste, and flee the unlawful 

"bed: 
" Nor steal thy neighbour's gold, his garment, or 
" his bread 



HOR^ LYRICS. 39 

" Forbear to blast his name with falsehood or 

" deceit, 
" Nor let thy wishes loose upon his large estate." 



KEMEMBEB, YOUR CREATOR, &c. 

ECCLES. XII. 

Children, to your Creator, God, 

Your early honours pay, 
"While vanity and youthful blood 

Would tempt your thoughts astray. 

The memory of his mighty name, 

Demands your first regard ; 
Nor dare indulge a meaner flame, 

Till you have lov'd the Lord. 

Be wise, and make his favour sure. 

Before the mournful days, 
When youth and mirth are known no more, 

And hfe and strength decays. 

No more the blessings of a feast 

Shall relish on the tongue. 
The heavy ear forgets the taste 

And pleasure of a song. 



40 HORiE LYRICiE. 

Old age, with all her dismal train, , 
Invades your golden years 
' With sighs, and groans, and raging pain, 
And death, that never spares. 

What will ye do when light departs. 
And leaves your withering eyes 

Without one beam to cheer your hearts, 
From the superior skies ? 

How will you meet God's frowning brow, 

Or stand before his seat, 
While nature's old supporters bow, 

Nor bear their tottering weight ? 

Can you expect your feeble arms 
Shall make a strong defence. 

When death, with terrible alarms, 
Summons the prisoner hence ? 

The silver bands of nature burst. 

And let the building fall ; 
The flesh goes down to mix with dust. 

Its vile original. 

Laden with guilt (a heavy load !) 

Uncleans'd, and unforgiven. 
The soul returns to an angry God, 

To be shut out from heaven. 



HORiE LYRICS. 41 



SUN, MOON, AND STAKS, PRAISE YE 
THE LORD. 

Fairest of all the lights above, 
Thou sun, whose beams adorn the spheres. 
And with unwearied swiftness move, 
To form the circles of our years ; 

Praise the Creator of the skies, 
That dress'd thine orb in golden rays ; 
Or may the sun forget to rise, 
If he forget his Maker's praise. 

Thou reigning beauty of the night. 
Fair queen of silence, silver moon, 
Whose gentle beams, and borrow'd light. 
Are softer rivals of the noon ; 

Arise, and to that Sovereign Power, 
Waxing and waning honours pay. 
Who bade thee rule the dusky hour, 
And half supply the absent day. 

Ye twinkling stars, who gild the skies 
When darkness has its curtains drawn, 
Who keep your watch, with wakeful eyes, 
When business, cares, and day are gone ; 



42 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Proclaim the glories of your Lord, 
Dispers'd thro' all the heavenly street, 
Whose boundless treasures can afford 
So rich a pavement for his feet. 

Thou heaven -of heavens, supremely bright. 

Fair palace of the court divine, 

Where, with inimitable light. 

The Godhead condescends to shine. 

Praise thou thy great Inhabitant, 
Who scatters lovely beams of grace 
On every angel, every saint. 
Nor veils the lustre of his face. 

O God of glory, God of love, 
Thou art the sun that makes our days ; 
With all thy shining works above. 
Let earth and dust attempt thy praise. 



THE WELCOME MESSENGER. 

Lord, when we see a saint of thine 
Lie gasping out his breath. 

With longing eyes, and looks divine, 
Smiling and pleas'd in death ; 



HOK^ LYRICS. 43 

How could we e'en contend to lay 

Our limbs upon that bed ! 
We ask thine envoy to convey 

Our spirits in his stead. 

Our souls are rising on the wing, 

To venture in his place, 
For when grim Death has lost his sting, 

He has an angel's face. 

Jesus, then purge my crimes away, 

'Tis guilt creates my fears, 
'Tis guilt gives death its fierce array, 

And all the arms it bears. 

Oh ! if my threatening sins were gone. 

And Death had lost his sting, 
I could invite the angel on. 

And chide his lazy wing. 

Away these interposing days. 

And let the lovers meet ; 
The angel has a cold embrace. 

But kind, and soft, and sweet. 

I 'd leap at once my seventy years, 

I 'd rush into his arms, 
And lose my breath, and all my cares, 

Amidst those heavenly charms. 



44 nORiE LYRICS. 

Joyful, I 'd lay this body down, 
And leave the lifeless clay, 

Without a sigh, without a groan, 
And stretch and soar away. 



SINCERE PEAISE. 

. Almighty Maker, God ! 

How wondrous is thy name ! 
Thy glories how diffus'd abroad 
Through the creation's frame ! 

Nature in every dress 
Her humble homage pays. 
And finds a thousand ways to express 
Thine undissembled praise. 

In native white and red 
The rose and lily stand, 
And, free from pride, their beauties spread, 
To show thy skilful hand. 

The lark mounts up the sky. 
With unambitious song. 
And bears her Maker's praise on high. 
Upon her artless tongue. 



HOKJS LYRICiE. 45 

My soul would rise and sing 
To lier Creator too, 
Fain would my tongue adore my King, 
And pay the worship due. 

But pride, that busy sin. 
Spoils all that I perform ; 
Curs'd pride, that creeps securely in. 
And swells a haughty worm. 

Thy glories I abate. 
Or praise thee with design ; 
Some of the favours I forget, 
Or think the merit mine. 

The very songs I frame. 
Are faithless to thy cause. 
And steal the honours of thy name 
To build their own applause. 

Create my soul anew. 
Else all my worship 's vain ; 
This wretched heart will ne'er be true, 
Until 'tis form'd again. 

Descend, celestial fire. 
And seize me from above ; 
Melt me in flames of pure desire, 
A sacrifice to love. 



46 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Let joy and worship siDend, 
The remnant of my days, 
And to my God, my soul, ascend, 
In sweet perfumes of praise. 



TRUE LEARNING. 

PARTLY IMITATED FROM A FRENCH SONNET OP 
M. POIRET. 

Happy the feet that shining Truth has led 
With her own hand to tread the path she please, 
To see her native lustre round her spread. 

Without a veil, without a shade, 
All beauty, and all light, as in herself she is. 

Our senses cheat us with the pressing crowds 
Of painted shapes they thrust upon the mind : 
The truth they show lies wrapt in sev'nfold shrouds, 

Our senses cast a thousand clouds 
On unenlighten'd souls, and leave them doubly 
bhnd. 

I hate the dust that fierce disputers raise, 
And lose the mind in a wild maze of thought ; 
What empty triflings, and what subtile ways 

To fence and guard by rule and rote ! 
Our God will never charge us, that we knew 
them not. 



HOR^ LTRICiE. 47 

Touch, heavenly "Word, O touch these curious 

souls ; 
Since I have heard but one soft hint from thee, 
From all the vain opinions of the schools 

(That pageantry of knowing fools) 
I feel my powers releas'd, and stand divinely free. 

'Twas this almighty Word that all things made. 
He grasps whole nature in his single hand ; 
All the eternal truths in him are laid, 

The ground of all things, and their head. 
The circle where they move, and centre where 
they stand. 

Without his aid, I have no sure defence, 
From troops of errors that besiege me round ; 
But he that rests his reason and his sense 

Fast here, and never wanders hence, 
Unmovable he dwells upon unshaken ground. 

Infinite Truth, the life of my desires. 
Come from the sky, and join thyself to me ; 
I 'm tir'd with hearing, and this reading tires ; 

But never tir'd of telling thee, 
'Tis thy fair face alone my spirit burns to see. 

Speak to my soul, alone, no other hand 
Shall mark my path out with delusive art : 
All nature silent in his presence stand ; 
Creatures be dumb at his command, 
And leave his single voice to whisper to my heart, 



48 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Retire, my soul, within thyself retire. 
Away from sense and every outward show : 
Now let my thoughts to loftier themes aspire. 

My knowledge now on wheels of fire 
May mount and spread above, surveying all below. 

The Lord grows lavish of his heavenly light, 
And pours whole floods on such a mind as this : 
Fled from the eyes, she gains a piercing sight. 

She dives into the infinite. 
And sees unutterable things in that unknown abyss. 



TRUE WISDOM. 

Pronounce him blest, my muse, whom wisdom 
guides 

In her own path to her own heavenly seat ; 
Through all the storms his soul securely glides, 

Nor can the tempests, nor the tides. 
That rise and roar around, supplant his steady feet. 

Earth, you may let your golden arrows fly. 
And seek, in vain, a passage to his breast. 
Spread all your painted toys to court his eye, 
He smiles, and sees them vainly try 
To lure his soul aside from her eternal rest. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 49 

Our headstrong lusts, like a young fiery horse, 

Start, and flee raging in a violent course ; 

He tames and breaks them, manages and rides 

them, 
Checks their career, and turns and guides 

them, 
And bids his reason bridle their licentious force. 

Lord of himself, he rules his wildest thoughts, 
And boldly acts what calmly he design'd, 
While he looks down and pities human faults ; 
Nor can he think, nor can he find, 
A plague like reigning passions, and a subject mind. 

But oh ! 'tis mighty toil to reach this height, 
To vanquish self is a laborious art ; 
"What manly courage to sustain the fight, 
To bear the noble pain, and part 
With those dear charming tempters rooted in the 
heart ! 

'Tis hai'd to stand when all the passions move. 
Hard to awake the eye that passion blinds 
To rend and tear out this unhappy love, 
That clings so close about our minds, 
And where the enchanted soul so sweet a poison 
finds. 

Hard ; but it may be done. Come, heavenly fire, 
Come to my breast, and with one powerful ray 
4 



50 HORiE LYRIC.E. 

Melt off my lusts, my fetters : I can bear 
A while to be a tenant here, 
But not be chain'd and prison'd in a cage of clay. 

Heaven is my home, and I must use my wings ; 
Sublime above the globe my flight aspires : 
I have a soul was made to pity kings. 
And all their little glittering things ; 
I have a soul was made for infinite desires. 

Loos'dfrom the earth, my heart is upward flown; 

Farewell, my friends, and all that once was mine ; 

Now, should you fix my feet on Caesar's throne, 

Crown me, and call the world my own. 

The gold that binds my brows could ne'er my 

soul confine. 

I am the Lord's, and Jesus is my love ; 
He, that dear God, shall fill my vast desire, 
My flesh below ; yet I can dwell above. 
And nearer to my Saviour move ; 
There all my soul shall centre, all my powers 
conspire. 

Thus I with angels live ; thus, half-divine, 
I sit on high, nor mind inferior joys : 
Fill'd with his love, I feel that God is mine, 
His glory is my great design. 
That everlasting project all my thoughts employs. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 51 



A SONG TO CREATING WISDOM. 



Eternal Wisdom, thee we praise, 

Thee the creation sings : 
With thy loud name, rocks, hills, and seas, 

And heaven's high palace, rings. 

Place me on the bright wings of day 

To travel with the sun ; 
With what amaze shall I survey 

The wonders thou hast done ! 

Thy hand how wide it spread the sky ! 

How glorious to behold ? 
Ting'd with a blue of heavenly dye. 

And starr'd with sparkling gold. 

There thou hast bid the globes of light 

Their endless circles run ; 
There the pale planet rules the night, 

And day obeys the sun. 



52 HORiE LYRICS. 



Downward I turn my wondering eyes 
On clouds and storms below, 

Those under-regions of tlie skies 
Thy numerous glories show. 

The noisy winds stand ready there 

Thy orders to obey, 
With sounding wings they sweep the air, 

To make thy chariot way. 

There, like a trumpet, loud and strong, 
Thy thunder shakes our coast : 

While the red lightnings wave along, 
The banners of thine host. 

On the thin air, without a prop. 
Hang fruitful showers around : 

At thy command they sink, and drop 
Their fatness on the ground. 



Now to the earth I bend my song, 
And cast my eyes abroad. 

Glancing the British isles along ; 
Blest isles, confess your God. . 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 53 

How did his wondrous skill array 

Your fields in charming green ; 
A thousand herbs his art display, 

A thousand flowers between ! 

Tall oaks for future navies grow, 

Fair Albion's best defence, 
"While corn and vines rejoice below, 

Those luxuries of sense. 

The bleating flocks his pasture feeds : 

And herds, of larger size. 
That bellow through the Lindian meads, 

His bounteous hand supplies. 



We see the Thames caress the shores. 
He guides her silver flood ; 

While angry Severn swells and roars. 
Yet hears her Ruler God. 

The rolling mountains of the deep 
Observe his strong command ; 

His breath can raise the billows steep 
Or sink them to the sand. 

Amidst thy watery kingdoms. Lord, 

The finny nations play, 
And scaly monsters, at thy word, 

Rush through the northern sea. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 



Thy glories blaze all nature round, 

And strike the gazing sight, 
Through skies, and seas, and solid ground, 

With terror and delight. 

Infinite strength, and equal skill. 
Shine through the worlds abroad. 

Our souls with vast amazement fill, 
And speak the builder God. 

But the sweet beauties of thy grace 

Our softer passions move ; 
Pitj divine in Jesus' face 

We see, adore, and love. 



GOD'S ABSOLUTE DOMINION. 

Lord, when my thoughtful soul surveys 
Fire, air and earth, and stars and seas, 

I call them all thy slaves ; 
Commission'd by my Father's will. 
Poisons shall cure, or balms shall kill ; 

Vernal suns, or zephyrs' breath, 
May burn or blast the plants to death 

That sharp December saves ! 



HOR^ LYRICS. 55 

What can winds or planets boast 

But a precarious power ? 
The sun is all in darkness lost, 
Frost shall be fire, and fire be frost, 

When he appoints the hour. 
Lo ! the Norwegians, near the polar sky, 

Chafe their frozen limbs with snow ; 

Their frozen limbs awake and glow, 
The vital flame, touch'd with a strange supply. 
Rekindles, for the God of life is nigh : 
He bids the vital blood in wonted circles flow. 

Cold steel, expos'd to northern air. 
Drinks the meridian fury of the midnight Bear, 

And burns the unwary stranger there. 

Inquire, my soul, of ancient fame. 

Look back two thousand years, and see 

The Assyrian prince transform'd a brute. 

For boasting to be absolute : 
Once to his court the God of Israel came, 

A king more absolute than he. 

I see the furnace blaze with rage 

Sevenfold : I see amidst the flame 

Three Hebrews of immortal name : 
They move, they walk across the burning stage 

Unhurt, and fearless, while the tyrant stood 

A statue ; Fear congeal'd his blood : 

Nor did the raging element dare 

Attempt their garments or their hair ; 
It knew the Lord of nature there. 



56 HOR^ LYRICJ^:. 

Nature, compell'd by a superior cause, 

Now breaks her own eternal laws. 

Now seems to break them, and obeys 

Her sovereign King in different ways. 

Father, how bright thy glories shine ! 

How broad thy kingdom, how divine ! 
Nature, and miracle, and fate, and chance, are thine. 

Hence from my heart, ye idols, flee. 

Ye sounding names of vanity : 

No more my lips shall sacrifice 

To chance and nature, tales and lies : 
Creatures without a God can yield me no supplies. 

What is the sun, or what the shade, 

Or frosts, or flames, to kill or save ? 
His favour is my life, his lips pronounce me dead ; 

And as his awful dictates bid. 

Earth is my mother, or my grave. 



CONDESCENDING GRACE. 

IN IMITATION OF PSALM CXIV. 

When the Eternal bows the skies, 

To visit earthly things. 
With scorn divine he turns his eyes 

From towers of haughty kings ; 



HORiE LYRICS. 57 

Rides on a cloud disdainful by 

A sultan or a czar, 
Laughs at tlie worms that rise so high, 

Or frowns 'em from afar : 

He bids his awful chariot roll 

Far downward from the skies, 
To visit every humble soul, 

With pleasure in his eyes. 

Why should the Lord, that reigns above, 

Disdain so lofty kings ? 
Say, Lord, and why such looks of love 

Upon such worthless things ? 

Mortals, be dumb ; what creature dares 

Dispute his awful will ; 
Ask no account of his affairs. 

But tremble and be still. 

Just like his nature is his grace, 

All sov'reign, and all free ; 
Great God ! how searchless are thy ways ! 

How deep thy judgments be ! 



58 HOR^ LYRICS. 



THE INFINITE. 



Some seraph, lend your heavenly tongue, 

Or harp of golden string, 
That I may raise a lofty song 

To our eternal King. 

Thy names, how infinit-e they be ! 

Great Everlasting One ! 
Boundless thy might and majesty. 

And unconfin'd thy throne. 

Thy glories shine of wond'rous size, 
And wond'rous large thy grace ; 

Immortal day breaks from thine eyes, 
And Gabriel veils his face. 

Thine essence is a vast abyss, 

Which angels cannot sound. 
An ocean of infinities, 

Where all our thoughts are drown'd. 

The mysteries of creation lie 

Beneath enlighten'd minds ; 
Thoughts can ascend above the sky, 

And fly before the winds ; 



HOR^ LYRICJE. 59 



Reason may grasp the massy hills, 
And stretch from pole to pole, 

But half thy name our spirit fills. 
And overloads our soul. 

In vain our haughty reason sAvells, 
For nothing 's found in Thee 

But boundless unconceivables, 
And vast eternity. 



CONFESSION AND PARDON. 

Alas, my aching heart ! 
Here the keen torment lies ; 
It racks my waking hours with smart. 
And frights my slumb'ring eyes. 

Guilt will be hid no more. 
My griefs take vent apace. 
The crimes that blot my conscience o'er 
Flush crimson in my face. 

My sorrows, like a flood, 
Impatient of restraint. 
Into thy bosom, my God, 
Pour out a long complaint. 



60 HOR^ LYRICS. 

This impious heart of mine 
Could once defy the Lord, 
Could rush with violence on to sin, 
In presence of thy sword. 

How often have I stood 
A rebel to the skies, 
The calls, the tenders of a God, 
And mercy's loudest cries ! 

He offers all his grace, 
And all his heaven to me ; 
Offers ! but 'tis to senseless brass, 
That cannot feel nor see. 

Jesus, the Saviour stands 
To court me from above. 
And looks and spreads his wounded hands, 
And shows the prints of love. 

But I, a stupid fool. 
How long have I withstood 
The blessings purchas'd with his soul, 
And paid for all in blood ! 

The heavenly Dove came down, 
And tender'd me his wings 
To mount me upward to a crown, 
And brio^ht immortal things. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 61 

Lord, I 'm asliam'd to say- 
That I refus'd thy Dove, 
And sent thy Spirit griev'd away. 
To his own realms of love. 

Not all thine heavenly charms, 
Nor terrors of thy hand. 
Could force me to lay down my arms, 
And bow to thy command. 

Lord, 'tis against thy face 
My sins hke arrows rise. 
And yet, and yet (0 matchless grace !) 
Thy thunder silent lies. 

O shall I never feel 
The meltings of thy love ? 
Am I of such hell-harden'd steel 
That mercy cannot move ? 

Now for one powerful glance, 
Dear Saviour, from thy face ! 
This rebel heart no more withstands. 
But sinks beneath thy grace. 

Overcome by dying love I fall. 
Here at thy cross I lie ; 
And throw my soul, my flesh, my all, 
And weep, and love, and die. 



62 HOR^ LYRICS. 

" Rise," says the Prince of mercy, " rise ! '* 
With joy and pity in his eyes : 
" Rise, and behold my wounded veins, 
" Here flows the blood to wash thy stains. 

" See my great Father reconcil'd : " 
He said : and lo, the Father smil'd ; 
The joyful cherubs clapp'd their wings, 
And sounded grace on all their strings. 



YOUNG MEN AND MAIDENS, OLD MEN 
AND BABES, PRAISE YE THE LORD. 

PSALM CXLVIII. 12. 

Sons of Adam, bold and young. 

In the wild mazes of whose veins 

A flood of fiery vigour reigns. 
And wields your active limbs, with hardy sinews 
strung ; 

Fall prostrate at the eternal throne, 

Whence your precarious powers depend ; 
Nor swell as if your lives were all your own. 

But choose your Maker for your friend ; 
His favour is your life, his arm is your support, 
His hand can stretch your days, or cut your minutes 
short. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 63 

Virgins, who roll your artful eyes, 
And shoot delicious danger thence ; 
Swift the lovely lightning flies, 
And melts our reason down to sense ; 

Boast not of those withering charms 
That must yield their youthful grace 
To age and wrinkles, earth and worms ; 
But love the Author of your smiling face ; 
That heavenly Bridegroom claims your blooming 
hours : 
O make it your perpetual care 
To please that Everlasting Fair ; 
His beauties are the sun, and but the shade is yours. 

Infants whose different destinies 

Are wove with threads of different size ; 

But from the same spring-tide of tears, 

Commence your hopes, and joys, and fears, 
(A tedious train !) and date your following years : 

Break your first silence in his praise 

Who wrought your wondrous frame : 
With sounds of tenderest accent raise ,i 

Your honours to his name ; '{ 

And consecrate your early days ,, 

To know the Power Supreme. i 

Ye heads of venerable age, '{ 

Just marching off the mortal stage, h 

Fathers, whose vital threads are spun .^ 

As lonor as e'er the dass of life would run, *i 



64 HOR^ LYRICiE. 

Adore the hand that led your way 
Through flowery fields, a fair long summer's day ; 
Gasp out your soul in praises to the sovereign 

power 
That set your west so distant from your dawning 

hour. 



FLYING FOWL, AND CREEPING THINGS 
PEAISE YE THE LORD. 

PSALM CXLVIII. 10. 

Sweet flocks, whose soft enamell'd wing 

Swift and gently cleaves the sky ; 
Whose charming notes address the spring 

With an artless harmony. 

Lovely minstrels of the field, 

Who in leafy shadows sit, 

And your wondrous structures build. 
Awake your tuneful voices with the dawning light : 
To Nature's God your first devotions pay. 

Ere you salute the rising day, 
'Tis he calls up the sun, and gives him every ray. 

Serpents, who o'er the meadows slide, 
And wear upon your shining back 



HOR^ LTRICiE. 65 

Numerous ranks of gaudy pride, 
Which thousand mingling colours make ; 

Let the fierce glances of your eyes 

Rebate their baleful fire : 
In harmless play twist and unfold 
The volumes of your scaly gold : 
That rich embroidery of your gay attire, 
Proclaims your Maker kind and wise. 

Insects and mites, of mean degree, 
That swarm in myriads o'er the land, 
Moulded by Wisdom's artful hand, 

And curl'd and painted with a various dye ; 
In your innumerable forms 
Praise him that wears the ethereal crown, 
And bends his lofty counsels down 
To despicable worms. 



THE COMPAEISON AND COMPLAINT. 

Infinite Power, eternal Lord, 

How sovereign is thy hand ! 
All nature rose to obey thy word, 

And moves at thy command. 
5 



Q6 HOR^ LYRICS. 

With steady course thy shining sun 
Keeps his appointed way; 

And all the hours obedient run 
The circle of the day. 

But ah ! how wide my spirit flies, 
And wanders from her God ! 

My soul forgets the heavenly prize, 
And treads the downward road. 

The raging fire, and stormy sea, 
Perform thine awful will, 

And every beast and every tree, 
Thy great designs fulfil: 

While my wild passions rage within, 
Nor thy commands obey ; 

And flesh and sense, enslav'd to sin. 
Draw my best thoughts away. 

Shall creatures of a meaner frame 
Pay all thy dues to thee ; 

Creatures, that never knew thy name. 
That never lov'd hke me ? 

Great God, create my soul anew. 
Conform my heart to thine. 

Melt down my will and let it flow, 
And take the mould divine. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 67 

Seize my whole frame into thy hand ; 

Here all my powers I bring ; 
Manage the wheels by thy command, 

And govern every spring. 

Then shall my feet no more depart, 

Nor wandering senses rove ; 
Devotion shall be all my heart. 

And all my passions love. 

Then not the sun shall more than I 

His Maker's law perform, 
Nor travel swifter through the sky, 

Nor with a zeal so warm. 



GOD SUPREME AND SELF-SUFFICIENT. 

What is our God, or what his name, 
Nor men x^an learn, nor angels teach ; 
He dwells conceal'd in radiant flame, 
Where neither eyes nor thoughts can reach. 

The spacious worlds of heavenly light, 
Compar'd with him, how short they fall ! 
They are too dark, and he too bright. 
Nothing are they, and God is all. 



G8 IIORiE LYRICS. 

He spoke the wondrous word, and, lo ! 
Creation rose at his command : 
"Whirlwinds and seas their limits know, 
Bound in the hollow of his hand. 

There rests the earth, there roll the spheres, 
There nature leans, and feels her prop : 
But his own self-sufficience bears 
The weight of his own glories up. 

The tide of creatures ebbs and flows, 
Measuring their changes by the moon : 
No ebb his sea of glory knows, 
His age is one eternal noon. 

Then fly, my song, an endless round. 
The lofty tune let Michael raise ; 
All nature dwell upon the sound, 
But we can ne'er fulfil the praise. 



JESUS THE ONLY SAYIOUK. 

Adam, our father and our head, 
Transgress'd, and justice doom'd us dead : 
The fiery law speaks all despair. 
There's no reprieve, nor pardon there. 



HOR^ LYRICJE. 69 

Call a bright council in the skies ; 
" Seraphs, the mighty and the wise, 
" Say, what expedient can you give, 
" That sin be damn'd, and sinners live ? 

" Speak, are you strong to bear the load, 
" The weighty vengeance of a God ? 
" Which of you loves our wretched race, 
" Or dares to venture in our place ? " 

In vain we ask : for all around 

Stands silence through the heavenly ground : 

There 's not a glorious mind above 

Has half the strength, or half the love. 

But, unutterable grace ! 
The eternal Son takes Adam's place : 
Down to our world the Saviour flies, 
Stretches his naked arms, and dies. 

Justice was pleas'd to bruise the God, 
And pay its wrongs with heavenly blood ; 
What unknown racks and pangs he bore ! 
Then rose : The law could ask no more. 

Amazing work ! look down, ye skies, 
Wonder and gaze with all your eyes ; 
Ye heavenly thrones, stoop from above, 
And bow to this mysterious love. 



70 HOR^ LYRICS. 

See, how they bend ! See, how they look ! 
Long they had read the eternal book, 
And studied dark decrees in vain. 
The cross and Calvary makes them plain. 

Now they are struck with deep amaze. 
Each with his wings conceals his face ; 
Now clap their sounding plumes, and cry, 
" The wisdom of a Deity ! " 

Lo ! they adore the Incarnate Son, 
And sing the glories he hath won ; 
Sing how he broke our iron chains, 
How deep he sunk, how high he reigns. 

Triumph and reign, victorious Lord, 
By all thy flaming hosts ador'd : 
And say, dear Conqueror, say, how long. 
Ere we shall rise to join their song. 

Lo, from afar the promis'd day 
Shines with a well distinguish'd ray ; 
But my wing'd passion hardly bears 
These lengths of slow delaying years. 

Send down a chariot from above. 
With fiery wheels, and pav'd with love ; 
Raise me beyond the ethereal blue, 
To sing and love as angels do. 



HORJS LYRICS. 71 



LOOKING UPWAED. 

The heavens invite mine eye, 
The stars salute me round ; 
Father, I blush, I mourn to lie 
Thus grovelling on the ground. 

My warmer spirits move, 
And make attempts to fly ; 
I wish aloud for wings of love 
To raise me swift and high, 

Beyond those crystal vaults, 
And all their sparkling balls ; 
They're but the porches to thy courts. 
And paintings on thy walls. 

Vain world, farewell to you ; 
Heaven is my native air : 
I bid my friends a short adieu, 
Impatient to be there. 

I feel my powers releas'd 
From their old fleshly clod ; 
Fair guardian, bear me up in haste, 
And set me near my God. 



72 HORJE LYKIC^. 



CHRIST DYING, RISING, AND REIGNING. 

He dies ! the heavenly lover dies ! 
The tidings strike a doleful sound 
On my poor heart-strings : deep he lies 
In the cold caverns of the ground. 

Come, saints, and drop a tear or two, 
On the dear bosom of your God, 
He shed a thousand drops for you, 
A thousand drops of richer blood. 

Here 's love and grief beyond degree. 
The Lord of glory dies for men ! 
But, lo ! what sudden joys I see ! 
Jesus the dead revives again. 

The rising God forsakes the tomb. 
Up to his Father's court he flies ; 
Cherubic legions, guard him home. 
And shout him welcome to the skies. 

Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell 
How high our great Deliverer reigns ; 
Sing how he spoil'd the hosts of hell, 
And led the monster, death, in chains. 



HOR^ LTRICJE. 73 

Say, " Live for ever, wondrous King ! 
Born to redeem, and strong to save ! " 
Then ask the monster, " Where 's his sting ? 
And Where's thy victory, boasting grave?" 



THE GOD OF THUNDER. 

the immense, the amazing height, 
The boundless grandeur of our God, 
Who treads the worlds beneath his feet, 
And sways the nations with his nod ! 

He speaks ; and lo, all nature shakes. 
Heaven's everlasting pillars bow ; 
He rends the clouds with hideous cracks, 
And shoots his fiery arrows through. 

Well, let the nations start and fly 
At the blue lightning's horrid glare, 
Atheists and emperors shrink and die. 
When flame and noise torment the air. 

Let noise and flame confound the skies, 
And drown the spacious realms below, 
Yet will we sing the Thunderer's praise, 
And send our loud hosannas throuo^h. 



4: HORJi: LYRICS. 

Celestial King, thy blazing power 
Kindles our hearts to flaming joys, 
We shout to hear thy thunders roar, 
And echo to our Father's voice. 

Thus shall the God our Saviour come, 
And lightnings round his chariot play ; 
Ye lightnings, fly to make him room ; 
Ye glorious storms, prepare his way ! 



THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 

AN ODE. ATTEMPTED IN ENGLISH SAPPHIC. 

When the fierce north Avind with his airy forces. 
Rears up the Baltic to a foaming fury. 
And the red lightning, with a storm of hail, comes 
Rushing amain down, 

How the poor sailors stand amaz'd, and tremble ! 
While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet, 
Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters 

Quick to devour them. 

Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder, 
(If things eternal may be like these earthly) 
Such the dire terror when the great archangel 

Shakes the creation ; 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 75 

Tears the strong pillars of the vault of heaven, 
Breaks up old marble, the repose of princes ; 
See the graves open, and the bones arising, 

Flames all around 'em ! 

Hark the shrill outcries of the guilty wretches ! 
Lively bright horror, and amazing anguish, [lies 
Stare though their eyelids, while the living worm 
Gnawing within them. 

Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart- 
strings, 
And the smart twinges when the eye beholds the 
Lofty Judge frowning, and a flood of vengeance 
Rolling afore him. 

Hopeless immortals ! how they scream and shiver, 
While devils push them to the pit, wide yawning. 
Hideous and gloomy to receive them headlong 

Down to the centre. 

Stop here, my fancy : (all away, ye horrid 
Doleful ideas) come, arise to Jesus, 
How he sits Godlike ! and the saints around him, 
Thron'd, yet adoring ! 

may I sit there when he comes triumphant, 
Dooming the nations ! then ascend to glory, 
While our hosannas all along the passage 

Shout the Redeemer. 



fi 



76 HOR^ LYRICS. 



THE SONG OF ANGELS ABOVE. 

Earth has detain'd me prisoner long, 

And I 'm grown wear j now : 
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue, 

There 's nothing here for you. 

Tir'd in my thoughts, I stretch me down, 
And upward glance mine eyes. 

Upward (my Father) to thy throne, 
And to my native skies. 

There the dear Man, my Saviour, sits, 
The God, how bright he shines ! 

And scatters infinite delights 
On all the happy minds. 

Seraphs, with elevated strains, 

Circle the throne around, 
And move and charm the starry plains 

With an immortal sound. 

Jesus, the Lord, their harps employs, 

Jesus, my love, they sing, 
Jesus, the name of both our joys. 

Sounds sweet from every string. 



HOK^ LYRICS. 77 

Hark ! bow beyond tlie narrow bounds 

Of time and space they run, 
And speak in most majestic sounds, 

The Godhead of the Son. 

How on the Father's breast he lay, 

The darling of his soul, 
Infinite years before the day 

Or heavens began to roll. 

And now they sink the lofty tone, 

And gentler notes they play. 
And bring the eternal Godhead down 

To dwell in humble clay. . 

sacred beauties of the Man ! 

(The God resides within) 
His flesh all pure, without a stain, 

His soul without a sin. 

Then, how he look'd, and how he smil'd. 

What wondrous things he said ! 
Sweet cherubs, stay, dwell here awhile, 

And tell what Jesus did. 

At his command the blind awake. 

And feel the gladsome rays ; 
He bids the dumb attempt to speak. 

They try their tongues in praise. 



78 HOR^ LYRICS. 

He shed a thousand blessings round 
Where'er he turn'd his eye ; 

He spoke, and at the sovereign sound 
The hellish legions fly. 

Thus while, with unambitious strife, 
The ethereal minstrels rove 

Through all the labours of his life, 
And wonders of his love. 

In the full choir a broken string 
Groans with a strange surprise ; 

The rest in silence mourn their King, 
That bleeds, and loves, and dies. 

Seraph and saint, with drooping wings. 

Cease their harmonious breath ; 
• No blooming trees, nor bubbling spiings, 
While Jesus sleeps in death. 

Then all at once to living strains 
They summon every chord. 

Break up the tomb, and burst his chains. 
And show their rising Lord. 

Around the flaming army throngs 

To guard him to the skies, 
With loud hosannas on their tongues, 

And triumph in their eyes. 



HOR^ LYRICS. . 79 

In awful state the conquering God 

Ascends his shining throne, 
While tuneful angels sound abroad 

The victories he has won. 

Now let me rise, and join their song, 

And be an angel too ; 
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue, 

Here 's joyful work for you. 

I would begin the music here. 

And so my soul should rise : 
Oh ! for some heavenly notes to bear 

My spirit to the skies ! 

There, ye that love my Saviour, sit, 

There I would fain have place, 
Amongst your thrones, or at your feet, 

So I might see his face. 

I am confin'd to earth no more, 

But mount in haste above, 
To bless the God that I adore. 

And sing the Man I love. 



80 HOR^ LYRICS. 



FIRE, AIR, EARTH, AND SEA, PRAISE 
YE THE LORD. 

Earth, thou great footstool of our God, 
Who reigns on high ; thou fruitful source 
Of all our raiment, life and food ; 
Our house, our parent, and our nurse ; 
Mighty stage of mortal scenes, 
Drest with strong and gay machines, 
Hung with golden lamps around, 
(And flowery carpets spread the ground) 
Thou bulky globe, prodigious mass. 
That hangs unpillar'd in an empty space ! 
While thy unwieldy weight rests on the feeble air. 
Bless that Almighty Word that fix'd and holds 
thee there. 

Fire, thou swift herald of his face. 

Whose glorious rage, at his command. 

Levels a palace with the sand. 
Blending the lofty spires in ruin with the base : 

Ye heavenly flames, that singe the air, 

Artillery of a jealous God, 
Bright arrows that his sounding quivers bear 
To scatter deaths abroad ; 



HOR^ LYRICS. 81 

Lightnings, adore the sovereign arm that flings 
His vengeance, and jour fires, upon the heads of 
kings. 

Thou vital element, the air, 
"Whose boundless magazines of breath 
Our fainting flame of life repair, 
And save the bubble, man, from the cold arms of 

death. 
And ye whose vital moisture yields 

Life's purple stream a fresh supply ; 
Sweet waters, wand' ring through the flowery fields, 

Or dropping from the sky ; 
Confess the Power whose all-sufficient name 
Nor needs your aid to build, or to support our 
frame. 

Now the rude air, with noisy force, 
Beats up and swells the angry sea, 
They join to make our lives a prey, 
And sweep the sailors' hopes away. 

Vain hopes, to reach their kindred on the shores ! 
Lo, the wild seas and surging waves 

Gape hideous in a thousand graves : 

Be still, ye floods, and know your bounds of sand. 
Ye storms, adore your Master's hand : 

The winds are in his flst,the waves at his command. 

From the eternal emptiness 

His fruitful word, by secret springs, 



82 nOR^ LYRICS. 

Drew the whole harmony of things 
That form this noble universe : 
Old Nothing knew his powerful hand, 
Scarce had he spoke his full command, 
Fire, air, and earth, and sea heard the creating call. 
And leap'd from empty nothing to this beauteous 
aU: 
And still they dance, and still obey 
The orders they receiv'd the great creation day. 



THE FAREWELL. 

Dead be my heart to all below, 
To mortal joys and mortal cares ; 
To sensual bliss that charms us so. 
Be dark, my eyes, and deaf, my ears. 

Here I renounce my carnal taste 
Of the fair fruit that sinners prize : 
Their paradise shall never waste 
One thought of mine, but to despise. 

All earthly joys are overweigh'd 
With mountains of vexatious care ; 
And where 's the sweet that is not laid 
A bait to some destructive snare ? 



nOE^ LYRICiE. 

Be gone for ever, mortal things ! 
Then mighty molehill, earth, farewell ! 
Angels aspire on lofty wings, 
And leave the globe for ants to dwell. 

Come, heaven, and fill my vast desires, 
My soul pursues the sovereign good : 
She was all made of heavenly fires. 
Nor can she live on meaner food. 



GOD ONLY KNOWN TO HIMSELF. 

Stand, and adore ! how glorious he 
That dwells in bright eternity ! 
We gaze, and we confound our sight 
Plung'd in the abyss of dazzling light. 

Thus sacred One, almighty Three, 
Great everlasting Mystery, 
What lofty numbers shall we frame • 
Equal to thy tremendous name ? 

Seraphs, the nearest to the throne, 
Begin, and speak the great Unknown : 
Attempt the song, wind up your strings, 
To notes untry'd, and boundless things. 



84 HOR^ LYRICS. 

You whose capacious powers survey- 
Largely beyond our eyes of clay : 
Yet what a narrow j)ortion too 
Is seen, or known, or thought, by you ! 

How flat your highest praises fall 
Below the immense Original ! 
Weak creatures we, that strive in vain 
To reach an uncreated strain ! 

Great God, forgive our feeble lays, 
Sound out thine own eternal praise ; 
A song so vast, a theme so high. 
Calls for the voice that tun'd the sky. 



PARDON AND SANCTIFICATION. 

My crimes awake ; and hideous fear 
Distracts my restless mind, 

Guilt meets my eyes with horrid glare. 
And hell pursues behind. 

Almighty vengeance frowns on high. 
And flames array the throne ; 

While thunder murmurs round the sky. 
Impatient to be gone. 



HOIlJi LYRICS. b 

Where shall I hide this noxious head ; 

Can rocks or mountains save ? 
Or shall I wrap me in the shade 

Of midnight and the grave ? 

Is there no shelter from the eye 

Of a revengmg God ? 
Jesus, to thy dear wounds I fly, 

Bedew me with thy blood. 

Those guardian drops my soul secure. 

And wash away my sin ; 
Eternal justice frowns no more, 

And conscience smiles within. 

I bless that wondrous purple stream 

That whitens erery stain : 
Yet is my soul but half redeem'd. 

If sin, the tyrant, reign. 

Lord, blast his empire with thy breath. 
That cursed throne must fall ; 

Ye flattering plagues, that work my death. 
Fly, for I hate you all. 



86 HOK^ LYRICS. 



SOVEREIGNTY AND GRACE. 

The Lord ! how fearful is his name ! 

How wide is his command ! 
Nature, with all her moving frame, 

Rests on his mighty hand. 

Immortal glory forms his throne, 

And hght his awful robe : 
Whilst with a smile, or with a frown, 

He manages the globe. 

A word of his Almighty breath 

Can swell or sink the seas ; 
Build the vast empires of the earth. 

Or break them, as he please. 

Adoring angels round him fall. 

In all their shining forms. 
His sovereign eye looks through them all, 

And pities mortal worms. 

His bowels, to our worthless race, 

In sweet compassion move ; 
He clothes his looks with softest grace. 

And takes his title, Love. 



i*y 



HOK^ LYRICS. 87 

Now let the Lord for ever reign, 

And sway us as he will, 
Sick, or in health, in ease, or pain. 

We are his favourites still. 

No more shall peevish passion rise, 

The tongue no more complain ; 
'Tis sovereign Love that lends our joys. 

And love resumes again 



THE LAW JlSJ) gospel. 

" CuPtST be the man, for ever curst, 
" That doth one wilful sin commit ; 
" Death and damnation for the first, 
"Without relief, and infinite." 

Thus Sinai roars ; and round the earth 
Thunder, and fire, and vengeance flings ; 
But, Jesus, thy dear gasping breath. 
And Calvary, say gentler things. 

" Pardon, and grace, and boundless love, 
" Streaming along a Saviour's blood, 
" And life, and joys, and crowns above, 
" Dear-purchas'd by a bleeding God." 



Hark, how he prays (the charming sound 
Dwells on his dying lips) " Forgive ! " 
And every groan, and gaping wound. 
Cries, " Father let the rebels live." 

Go, you that rest upon the law, 
And toil, and seek salvation there. 
Look to the flames that Moses saw. 
And shrink, and tremble, and despair. 

But I'll retire beneath the cross ; 
Saviour, at thy dear feet I he ; 
And the keen sword that justice draws. 
Flaming and red, shall pass me by. 



SEEKING A DIVINE CALM IN A REST- 
LESS WORLD. 

" Mens, quse stabili fata Eegis vice," &c. 

Casimire, Book 111. Od. 28. 

Eternal Mind, w^ho rul'st the fates 
Of dying realms, and rising states, 

With one unchang'd decree, 
While we admire thy vast affairs. 
Say, can our little trifling cares 

Afford a smile to thee ? 



HOR^ LYRICJ]:. 89 

Thou scatterest honours, crowns and gold ; 
We fly to seize, and fight to hold 

The bubbles and the ore : 
So emmets struggle for a grain ; 
So boys their petty wars maintain 

For shells upon the shore. 

Here a vain man his sceptre breaks, 
The next a broken sceptre takes, 

And warriors win and lose ; 
This rolling world will never stand, 
Plunder'd and snatch'd from hand to hand, 

As power decays or grows. 

Earth's but an atom: Greedy swords 
Carve it among a thousand lords. 

And yet they can't agree : 
Let greedy swords still fight and slay, 
I can be poor ; but, Lord, I pray 

To sit and smile with thee. 



HAPPY FEAILTY. 

" How meanly dwells the immortal mind ! 

" How vile these bodies are ! 
" Why was a clod of earth design'd 

" To inclose a heavenly star ? 



90 nOR^ LYRICS. 

" Weak cottage, where our souls reside ! 

" This flesh a tottering wall ; 
" With frightful breaches, gaping wide, 

" The building bends to fall. 

"All round it storms of trouble blow, 

"And waves of sorrow roll ; 
" Cold waves and winter storms beat through, 

"And pain the tenant-soul. 

"Alas ! how frail our state ! " said I : 

And thus went mourning on, 
Till, sudden from the cleaving sky, 

A gleam of glory shone. 

My soul all felt the glory come. 

And breath'd her native air ; 
Then she remember'd heaven her home. 

And she a prisoner here. 

Straight she began to change her key. 

And joyful in her pains, 
She sung the frailty of her clay 

In pleasurable strains. 

" How weak the prison where I dwell ! 

" Flesh, but a tottering wall, 
" The breaches cheerfully foretell, 

" The house must shortly fall. 



HORiE LYRICiE. 91 

" No more, my friends, shall I complain, 
" Though all my heart-strings ache ; 

" Welcome, disease, and every pain, 
" That makes the cottage shake. 

" I^Tow let the tempest blow all round, 

" Now swell the surges high, 
" And beat this house of bondage down, 

" To let the stranger fly. 

" I have a mansion built above, 

" By the Eternal hand ; 
"And should the earth's old basis move, 

" My heavenly house must stand. 

" Yes, for 'tis there my Saviour reigns, 

" (I long to see the God) 
"And his immortal strength sustains 

" The courts that cost him blood." 

Hark, from on high my Saviour calls : 

" I come, my Lord, my Love : " 
Devotion breaks the prison walls, 

And speeds my last remove. 



92 HORiE LYRICS. 



LAUNCHING INTO ETERNITY. 

It was a brave attempt ! adventurous he, 
"Who in the first ship broke the unknown sea : 
And, leaving his dear native shores behind, 
Trusted his life to the licentious wind. 
I see the surging brine : the tempest raves : , 
He on a pine-plank rides across the waves, 
Exulting on the edge of thousand gaping graves : 
He steers the winged boat, and shifts the sails. 
Conquers the flood, and manages the gales. 

Such is the soul that leaves this mortal land. 
Fearless, when the great Master gives command. 
Death is the storm : she smiles to hear it roar, 
And bids the tempest waft her from the shore : 
Then with a skilful helm she sweeps the seas, 
And manages the raging storm with ease ; 
(Her faith can govern death) she spreads her wings 
Wide to the wind, and as she sails she sings, 
And loses by degrees the sight of mortal things. 
As the shores lessen, so her joys arise, 
The waves roll gentler, and the tempest dies : 
Now vast eternity fills all her sight. 
She floats on the broad deep with infinite deMght, 
The seas for ever calm, the skies for ever bright. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 93 



A PEOSPECT OF THE EESURRECTION. 

How long shall death, the tyrant, reign 

And triumph o'er the just, 
While the rich blood of martyrs slain 

Lies mingled with the dust ? 

When shall the tedious night be gone ? 

When will our Lord appear ? 
Our fond desires would pray him down, 

Our love embrace him here. 

Let faith arise, and climb the hills, 

And from afar descry 
How distant are his chariot wheels, 

And tell how fast they fly. 

Lo, I behold the scattering shades. 

The dawn of heaven appears, 
The sweet immortal morning spreads 

Its blushes round the spheres. ' 

I see the Lord of glory come, 

And flaming guards around ; 
The skies divide, to make him room, 

The trumpet shakes the ground. 



94 IIORiE LYRICS. 

I hear the voice, " Ye dead, arise ! " 

And, lo, the graves obey. 
And waking saints, with joyful eyes, 
' Salute the expected day. 

They leave the dust, and on the wing, 

Rise to the middle air. 
In shining garments, meet their King, 

And low adore him there. 

O may my humble spirit stand 
Amongst them, cloth'd in white ! 

The meanest place, at his right-hand, 
Is infinite delight. 

How will our joy and wonder rise. 

When our returning King 
Shall bear us homeward through the skies 

On love's triumphant wing ! 



HOR^ LYRICS. 95 



BREATHING TOWARD THE HEAVENLY 
COUNTRY. 

CASIMIRE, BOOK I. OD. 19, IMITATED. 

" Urit me Patriae Decor," &c. 

The beauty of my native land 

Immortal love inspires ; 

I burn, I burn with strong desires, 

And sigh, and wait the high command. 

There glides the moon her shining way, 
And shoots my heart thro' with a silver ray ; 
Upward my heart aspires : 

A thousand lamps of golden light. 
Hung high, in vaulted azure, charm my sight. 
And wink and beckon with their amorous fires. 
O ye fair glories of my heavenly home. 

Bright sentinels, who guard my Father's court, 

Where all the happy minds resort, 

When will my Father's chariot come ? 
Must ye for ever walk the ethereal round ? 

For ever see the mourner lie 
An exile to the sky, 
A pris'ner of the ground ? 
Descend, some shining servants from on high. 
Build me a hasty tomb ; 



96 'hor.^ lyrics. 

A grassy turf will raise my head ; 
The neighbouring lilies dress my bed, 

And shed a cheap perfume. 
Here I put off the chains of death, 
My soul too long has worn : 
Friends, I forbid one groaning breath, 
Or tear to wet my urn ; 
Raphael, behold me, all undress'd. 
Here gently lay this flesh to rest ; 
Then mount, and lead the path unknown, 
Swift I pursue thee, flaming guide ! on pinions of 
my own. 



THE 

HUNDEETH EPIGRAM OF CASIMIRE. 

ON ST. ARDALIO, 

Who, from a Stage-Player, became a Christian, and suffered 
Martyrdom. 

Akdalio jeers, and in his comic strains 
The mysteries of our bleeding God profanes, 
While his loud laughter shakes the painted scenes. 

Heaven heard, and straight around the smoking 

throne 
The kindling lightning in thick flashes shone 
And vengeful thunder murmur'd to be gone. 



HOK^ LYRICS. 97 

Mercy stood near, and, with a smiling brow, 
Calm'd the loud thunder : " There 's no need of you ; 
" Grace shall descend, and the weak man subdue." 

Grace leaves the skies, and he the stage forsakes, 
He bows his head down to the martyring axe. 
And as he bows, this gentle farewell speaks : 

" So goes the comedy of life away ; 

" Vain earth, adieu ; Heaven will applaud to-day ; 

" Strike, courteous tyrant ! and conclude the play." 



A LATIN EPIGRAM. 

When the Protestant church, at Montpelier, was demolished, 
by the French king's order, the Protestants laid the stones 
up in their bur3'ing place, wherein a Jesuit made a Latin 
Epigram. 

ENGLISHED THUS : 



A Hug'not church, once at Montpelier built, 
Stood and proclaim'd their madness and their guilt ; 
Too long it stood beneath Heaven's angry frown. 
Worthy, when rising, to be thunder'd down. 
Lewis, at last, the avenger of the skies. 
Commands, and level with the ground it lies : 
The stones dispers'd, their wretched offspring come, 
Gather, and heap them on their fathers' tomb. 



98 HORiE LYRICS. 

Thus the curs'd house falls on the builder's head ; 
And tho' beneath the ground their bones are laid, 
Yet the just vengeance still pursues the guilty dead. 



THE ANSWEK, 

BY A FRENCH PROTESTANT. ENGLISHED THUS : 

A Christian church once at Montpelier stood, 
And nobly spoke the builders' zeal for God, 
It stood the envy of the fierce dragoon. 
But not deserv'd to be destroy'd so soon ; 
Yet Lewis, the wild tyrant of the age. 
Tears down the walls, a victim to his rage. 
Y''oung faithful hands pile up the sacred stones 
(Dear monument !) o'er their dead fathers' bones ; 
The stones shall move when the dead fathers rise. 
Start up before the pale destroyer's eyes. 
And testify his madness to the avenging skies. 



TWO HAPPY RIVALS. 

DEVOTION AND THE MUSE. 

Wild as the lightning, various as the moon, 
Roves my Pindaric song : 
Here she glows like burninsr noon 



HOR^ LYRICJE. , 99 

In fiercest flames, and here slie plays 
Gentle as star-beams on the midnight seas : 
Now in a smiling angel's form, 
Anon she rides upon the storm, 
Loud as the noisy thunder, as a deluge strong. 
Are my thoughts and wishes free, 
And know no number nor degree ? 
Such is the muse : Lo ! she disdains 
The links and chains. 
Measures and rules of vulgar strains. 
And o'er the laws of harmony, a sov'reign queen, 
she reigns. 

If she roves 
By streams or groves. 
Tuning her pleasures or her pains, 
My passion keeps her still in sight, 
My passion holds an equal flight 
Thro' love's or nature's wide campaigns. 
If with bold attempt she sings 
Of the biggest mortal things. 
Tottering thrones and nations slain ; 
Or breaks the fleets of warring kings. 
While thunders roar 
From shore to shore, 
My soul sits fast upon her wings, 
And sweeps the crimson surge, or scours the purple 
plain ; 
Still I attend her as she flies. 
Round the broad globe, and all beneath the skies. 



100 HORiE LYRICiE. 

But when from the meridian star 

Long streaks of glory shine, 

And heaven invites her from afar, 

She takes the hint, she knows the sign, 

The music ascends her heavenly car, [divine. 
And climbs the steepypath, and means the throne 

Then she leaves my fluttering mind 

Clogg'd with clay, and unrefin'd, 

Lengths of distance far behind ! 
Virtue lags, with heavy wheel ; 
Faith has wings, but cannot rise. 

Cannot rise. . . . Swift and high 

As the winged numbers fly, 
And faint devotion panting lies 

Half way the ethereal hill. 

Oh ! why is piety so weak, 

And yet the muse so strong ? 
When shall these hateful fetters break, 

That have confin'd me long ? 
Inward a glowing heat I feel, 
A spark of heavenly day; 
But earthly vapours damp my zeal. 
And heavy flesh drags me the downward way. 

Faint are the efforts of my will. 
And mortal passion charms my soul astray. 
Shine, thou sweet hour of dear release, 
Shine from the sky, 
And call me high 
To mingle with the choirs of glory and of bhss. 



IIOR^ LYRICS. 101 

Devotion there begins the flight, 
Awakes the song, and guides the way ; 
There love and zeal, divine and bright. 
Trace out new regions in the world of light. 
And scarce the boldest muse can follow or obey. 

I 'm in a dream, and fancy reigns, 
She spreads her gay delusive scenes ; 

Or is the vision true ? 
Behold religion on her throne, 
In awful state descending down. 
And her dominions, vast and bright, within my 
spacious view. 
She smiles, and with a courteous hand 

She beckons me away ; 
I feel mine airy powers loose from the cumbrous 
clay. 
And with a joyful haste obey 

Religion's high command. 
What lengths and heights and depths unknown ! 
Broad fields with blooming glory sown. 
And seas, and skies, and stars her own. 

In an unmeasur'd sphere ! 
What heavens of joy, and light serene, 
Which nor the rolling sun has seen, 
Where nor the roving muse has been, 

That greater traveller ! 

A long farewell to all below. 
Farewell to all that sense can show. 



102 HORiE LYRICS. 

To golden scenes, and jflowery fields, 
To all the worlds that fancy builds, 

And all that poets know. 
Now the swift transports of the mind 
Leave the fluttering muse behind, 
A thousand loose Pindaric plumes fly scattering 
down the wind. 
Amongst the clouds I lose my breath. 

The rapture grows too strong : 
The feeble powers that nature gave 
Faint, and drop downward to the grave ; 
Receive their fall, thou treasurer of death ; 
I will no more demand my tongue. 
Till the cross organ, well refin'd, 
Can trace the boundless flights of an unfetter'd 
mind. 
And raise an equal song. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 103 



THE HAZARD OF LOVING THE 
CREATURES. 

The following Poems of this Book are peculiarly dedicated to 
Divine Love.i 

Where'er my flattering passions rove, 

I find a lurking snare ; 
'Tis dangerous to let loose our love 

Beneatli the Eternal Fair. 

Souls whom the tie of friendship binds, 

And partners of our blood, 
Seize a large portion of our minds. 

And leave the less for God. 

Nature has soft but powerful bands, 

And reason she controls ; 
While children, with their little hands, 

Han^ closest to our souls. 



1 Different ages have their different airs and fashions of 
writing. It was much more the fashion of the age, when these 
Poems were written, to treat of divine subjects in the style 
of Solomon's Song, than it is at this day, which will afford 
some apology for the writer in his youngest years. 



104 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Thoughtless, they act the old serpent's part ; 

What tempting things they be ! 
Lord, how they twine about our heart. 

And draw it off from thee ! 

Our hasty wills rush blindly on 

"Where rising passion rolls, 
And thus we make our fetters strong 

To bind our slavish souls. 

Dear Sovereign ! break these fetters off, 

And set our spirits free ; 
God in himself is bliss enough. 

For we have all in thee. 



DESIEING TO LOVE CHKIST. 

Come, let me love : or is thy mind 

Harden'd to stone, or froze to ice ? 

I see the blessed Fair One bend 

And stoop to embrace me from the skies ! 

! 'tis a thought would melt a rock, 
And make a heart of iron move. 
That those sweet lips, that heavenly look, 
Should seek and wish a mortal love ! 



HORiE LTRICJ2. 105 

I was a traitor, dooin'd to fire, 
Bound to sustain eternal pains ; 
He flew on wings of strong desire, 
Assum'd mj guilt, and took my cliains. 

Infinite grace ! Almighty charms ! 
Stand in amaze, ye whirling skies, 
Jesus the God, with naked arms. 
Hangs on a cross of love and dies. 

Did pity ever stoop so low, 
Dress'd in divinity and blood ? 
Was ever rebel courted so 
In groans of an expiring God ? 

Again he lives ; and spreads his hands, 
Hands that were nail'd to torturing smart ; 
By these dear wounds, says he ; and stands 
And prays to clasp me to his heart. 

Sure I must love ; or are my ears 
Still deaf, nor will my passion move ? 
Then let me melt this heart to tears ; 
This heart shall yield to death or love. 



lOG HORiE LYRIC^E. 



THE HEART GIVEN AWAY. 

If there are passions in my soul, 
(And passions, sure they be) 

Now they are all at thy control. 
My Jesus, all for thee ! 

If love, that pleasing power, can rest 

In hearts so hard as mine, 
Come, gentle Saviour, to my breast. 

For all my love is thine. 

Let the gay world, with treacherous art, 

Allure my eyes in vain : 
I have convey'd away my heart. 

Ne'er to return again. 

I feel my warmest passions dead 
To all that earth can boast : 

This soul of mine was never made 
For vanity and dust. 

Now I can fix m^ thoughts above, 
Amidst their flattering charms. 

Till the dear Lord that hath my love 
Shall call me to his arms. 



HORJE LYRICS. 107 

So Gabriel, at his King's command, 

From yon celestial hill, 
Walks downward to our worthless land, 

His soul points upward still. 

He glides along my mortal things. 

Without a thought of love, 
Fulfils his task, and spreads his wings 

To reach the realms above. 



MEDITATION IN A GROVE. 

Sweet muse, descend, and bless the shade, 

And bless the evening grove ; 
Business, and noise, and day are fled, 

And every care, but love. 

But hence, ye wanton young and fair, 

Mine is a purer flame ; 
No Phyllis shall infect the air, 

With her unhallow'd name. 

Jesus has all my powers possess'd. 
My hopes, my fears, my joys : 

He, the dear Sovereign of my breast, 
Shall still command my voice. 



108 HOR^ LYEIC.E. 

Some of the fairest choirs above 

Shall flock around mj song, 
With joy, to hear the name they love 

Sound from a mortal tongue. 

His charms shall make my numbers flow, 

And hold the falling floods, 
While silence sits on every bough, 

And bends the listening woods. 

I '11 carve our passion on the bark. 

And every wounded tree 
Shall drop and bear some mystic mark 

That Jesus died for me. 

The swains shall wonder, when they read, 

Inscrib'd on all the grove, 
That Heaven itself came down, and bled, 

To win a mortal's love. 



THE FAIEEST AND THE ONLY BELOVED. 

Honour to that diviner ray 
That first allur'd my eyes away 
From every mortal fair ; 



HOE^ LYRICS. 109 

All the gay things that held my sight 
Seem but the twinkling sparks of night, 
And, languishing in doubtful light, 
Die at the morning star. 

"Whatever makes the Godhead great, 

And fit to be ador'd, 
Whatever makes the creature sweet, 
And worthy of my passion, meet 

Harmonious in my Lord. 
A thousand graces ever rise, 

And bloom upon his face ; 
A thousand arrows from his eyes 
Shoot through my heart, with dear surprise, 

And guard around the place. 

All nature's art shall never cure / 

The heavenly pains I found, 
And 'tis beyond all beauty's power 

To make another wound : 

Earthly beauties grow and fade ; 

Nature heals the wound she made, 
But charms so much divine 
Hold a long empire of the heart ; 
What heaven has join'd shall never part, 
And Jesus must be mine. 

In vain the envious shades of night, 

Or flatteries of the day, 
Would veil his image from my sight. 



110 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Or tempt my soul away ; 
Jesus is all my waking tlieme, 
His lovely form meets every dream, 
And knows not to depart : 
The passion reigns 
Through all my veins, 
And floating round the crimson stream. 
Still finds him at my heart. 

Dwell there, for ever dwell, my love ; 

Here I confine my sense ; 
Nor dare my wildest wishes rove 

Nor stir a thought from thence. 
Amidst thy glories and thy grace. 
Let all my remnant-minutes pass ; 

Grant thou. Everlasting Fair, 

Grant my soul a mansion there : 
My soul aspires to see thy face 
Though life should for the vision pay ; 
So rivers run to meet the sea. 

And lose their nature in the embrace. 

Thou art my ocean, thou my God ; 
In thee the passions of the mind, 
With joys and freedom unconfin'd 
Exult, and spread their powers abroad. 
Not all the glittering things on high 
Can make my heaven, if thou remove ; 
I shall be tir'd, and long to die ; 
Life is a pain without thy love ; 



HOR^ LYRICS. Ill 

Who could ever bear to be 
Curst with immortality 
Amono; the stars, but far from thee ? 



MUTUAL LOVE STRONGER THAN 
DEATH. 

Not the rich world of minds above 
Can pay the mighty debt of love 

I owe to Christ my God : 
With pangs which none but he could feel, 
He brought my guilty soul from hell : 
Not the first seraph's tongue can tell 

The value of his blood. 

Kindly he seiz'd me in his arms, 

From the false world's pernicious charms, 

With force divinely sweet. 
Had I ten thousand lives my own, 
At his demand, 
With cheerful hand, 
I'd pay the vital treasure down 
In hourly tributes at his feet. 



112 HORiE LYRICS. 

But, Saviour, let me taste thy grace 

With every fleeting breath ; 
And through that heaven of pleasure pass 

To the cold arms of death ; 
Then I could lose successive souls 

Fast as the minutes fly ; 
So billow after billow rolls 

To kiss the shore, and die. 



A SIGHT OF CHRIST. 



The substance of the following copy, and many of the lines, 
were sent me by an esteemed friend, Mr. W. Nokes, with a 
desire that I would fonn them into a Pindaric Ode ; but I 
retained his measures, lest I should too much alter his sense. 



Angels of light, your God and King surround, 

With noble songs ; in his exalted flesh 

He claims your worship ; while his saints on earth 

Bless their Redeemer- God with humble tongues, 

Angels with lofty honours crown his head ; 

We bowing at his feet, by faith, may feel 

His distant influence, and confess his love. 

Once I beheld his face, when beams divine 
Broke from his eyelids, and unusual light 
Wrapt me at once in glory and surprise. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 113 

My joyful heart, high leaping in my breast, 
With transport cried, " This is the Christ of God ; " 
Then threw my arms around in sweet embrace, 
And clasp'd, and bow'd adoring low, till I was lost 
in him. 

While he appears, no other charms can hold 
Or draw my soul, asham'd of former things. 
Which no remembrance, now deserve or name. 
Though with contempt ; best in oblivion hid. 

But the bright shine and presence soon withdrew ; 
I sought him whom I love, but found him not ; 
I felt his absence ; and with strongest cries 
Proclaim'd, " Where Jesus is not all is vain." 
Whether I hold him with a full delight, 
Or seek him, panting with extreme desire, 
'Tis he alone can please my wondering soul ; 
To hold or seek him is my only choice. 
If he refrain on me to cast his eye 
Down from his palace, nor my longing soul 
With upward look can spy my dearest Lord 
Through his blue pavement, I behold him still. 
With sweet reflection on the peaceful cross, 
All in his blood and anguish groaning deep. 

Gasping and dying there 

This sight I ne'er can lose ; by it I live : 
A quick'ning virtue from his death inspir'd 
Is hfe and breath to me ; his flesh my food ; 
His vital blood I drink, and hence my strength. 



114 IIORiE LYRICS. 

I live, I 'm strong, and now eternal life 
Beats quick within my breast ; my vigorous mind 
Spurs the dull earth, and on her fiery wings 
Reaches the mount of purposes divine, 
Counsels of peace betwixt the Almighty Three, 
Conceiv'd at once, and sign'd without debate. 
In perfect union of the eternal Mind. 
With vast amaze, I see the unfathomed thoughts. 
Infinite schemes, and infinite designs 
Of God's own heart, in which he ever rests. 
Eternity lies open to ray view ; 
Here the beginning and the end of all 
I can discover ; Christ the end of all, 
And Christ the great beginning ; he, my head, 
My God, my Glory, and my all in all. 

that the day, the joyful day, were come, 
"When the first Adam from his ancient dust 
Crown'd with new honours shall revive, and see 
Jesus his Son and Lord ; while shouting saints 
Surround their King, and God's eternal Son 
Shines in the midst, but with superior beams. 
And like himself; then the mysterious word, 
Long hid behind the letter, shall appear 
All spirit and life, and in the fullest light 
Stand forth to public view ; and there disclose 
His Father's sacred works, and wondrous ways : 
Then wisdom, righteousness and grace divine, 
Through all the infinite transactions past, 
Inwroujrht and shining, shall with double blaze 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 115 

Strike our astonish'd eyes, and ever reign 
Admir'd and glorious in triumphant light. 

Death and the tempter, and the man of sin 
Now at the bar arraign'd, in judgment cast, 
Shall vex the saints no more ; but perfect love 
And loudest praises perfect joy create, 
Y/hile ever-circling years maintain the blissful 
state. 



LOVE ON A CROSS, AND A THRONE. 

Now let my faith grow strong, and rise. 
And view my Lord in all his love ; 
Look back to hear his dying cries, 
Then mount and see his throne above. 

See where he languish'd on the cross ; 
Beneath my sins he groan'd and died ; 
See where he sits to plead my cause 
By his almighty Father's side. 

If I behold his bleeding heart. 
There love in floods of sorrow reigns. 
He triumphs o'er the killing smart. 
And buys my pleasure with his pains. 



116 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Or if I climb the eternal hills 
Where the dear Conqueror sits enthroned, 
Still in hi-s heart compassion dwells, 
Near the memorials of his wound. 

How shall a pardon'd rebel show- 
How much I love my dying God ? 
Lord, here I banish every foe, 
I hate the sins that cost thy blood. 

I hold no more commerce with hell. 
My dearest lusts shall all depart ; 
But let thine image ever dwell 
Stamp'd as a seal upon my heart. 



A PREPARATORY THOUGHT FOR THE 
LORD'S SUPPER. 

AN IMITATION OF ISAIAH, LXIII. 1, 2, 3. 

What heavenly Man, or lovely God, 
Comes marching downward from the skies, 
Array'd in garments roll'd in blood, 
With joy and pity in his eyes ! 



HOR^ LYRICS. 117 

The Lord ! the Saviour ! yes, 'tis he ; 
I know him by the smiles he wears ; 
Dear glorious Man, that died for me, 
Drench'd deep in agonies and tears ! • 

Lo, he reveals his shining breast ; 

I own those wounds, and I adore : 

Lo, he prepares a royal feast. 

Sweet fruit of the sharp pangs he bore ! 

Whence flow these favours so divine ! 
Lord ! why so lavish of thy blood ? 
"Why for such earthly souls as mine, 
This heavenly flesh, this sacred food ? 

'Twas his own love that made him bleed. 
That nail'd him to the cursed tree ; 
'Twas his own love this table spread 
For such unworthy worms as we. 

Then let us taste the Saviour's love ; 
Come, faith, and feed upon the Lord : 
With glad consent our lips shall move, 
And sweet hosannas crown the board. 



118 HOR^ LYRICiE. 



CONVERSE WITH CHIUST. 

I'm tir'cl with visits, modes, and fonns, 
And flatteries made to fellow-worms : 

Their conversation cloys ; 
Their vain amours, and emptj stuff: 
But I can ne'er enjoy enough 
Of thy best company, my Lord, thou life of all 
my joys. 

When he begins to tell his love, 
Through ev'ry vein my passions move, 

The captives of his tongue : 
In midnight shades, on frosty ground, 
I could attend the pleasing sound. 
Nor should I feel December cold, nor tliink the 
darkness long. 

There, while I hear my Saviour- God 
Count o'er the sins (a heavy load) 

He bore upon the tree. 
Inward I blush with secret shame, 
And weep, and love, and bless the name 
That knew not guilt nor grief his own, but bare 
it all for me. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 119 

Next he describes the thorns he wore, 
And talks his bloody passion o'er, 

Till I am drovvn'd in tears : 
Yet, with the sympathetic smart. 
There's a strange joy beats round my heart ; 
The cursed tree has blessings in 't, my sweetest 
balm it bears. 

I hear the glorious Sufferer tell, 
How on his cross he vanquish'd hell. 

And all the powers beneath ; 
Transported and inspir'd, my tongue 
Attempts his triumphs in a song : 
" How has the serpent lost his sting, and where 's 
thy victory, death ? " 

But when he shows his hands and heart. 
With those dear prints of dying smart, 

He sets my soul on fire : 
Not the beloved John could rest 
With more delight upon that breast, 
Nor Thomas pry into those wounds with more 
intense desire. 

Kindly he opens me his ear, 

And bids me pour my sorrow there, 

And tell him all my pains : 
Thus while I ease my burden'd heart, 
In every woe he bears a part, 
His arms embrace me, and his hand my drooping 
head sustains. 



120 HORJE LYRICS. 

Fly from my thoughts, all human thmgs, 
And sporting swams, and fighting kings, 

And tales of wanton love : 
My soul disdains that little snare 
The tangles of Amira's hair : 
Thine arms, my God, are sweeter bands, nor can 
my heart remove. 



GRACE SHINING, AND NATURE FAINTING. 

SOL. SONG, I. 3; II. 5; VI. 6. 

Tell me, fairest of thy kind, 

Tell me. Shepherd, all divine. 
Where this fainting head reclin'd 

May relieve such cares as mine : 

Shepherd, lead me to thy grove ; 
If burning noon infect the sky, 
The sickening sheep to covert fly, 
The sheep not half so faint as I, 

Thus overcome with love. 

Say, thou dear Sovereign of my breast, 
Where dost thou lead thy flock to rest : 

Why should I appear like one 

Wild and wandering all alone, 

Unbeloved and unknown ? 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 121 

O my Great Redeemer, say, 
Shall I turn my feet astray ! 
Will Jesus bear to see me rove, 
To see me seek another love ? 

Ne'er had I known his dearest name, 
Ne'er had I felt tliis inward flame, 
Had not his heart-strings first began the tender 
sound : 
Nor can I bear the thought, that he 
Should leave the sky. 
Should bleed and die, 
Should love a wretch so vile as me. 
Without returns of passion for his dying wound. 

His eyes are glory mixed with grace ; 

In his delightful awful face 

Sit majesty and gentleness. 

So tender is my bleeding heart 
That with a frown he kills : 

His absence is perpetual smart, 
Nor is my soul refin'd enough 
To bear the beaming of his love, 
And feel his warmer smiles. 

Where shall I rest this drooping head ? 
I love, I love the sun, and yet I want the shade. 

My sinking spirits feebly strive 

To endure the ecstasy ; 
Beneath these rays I cannot live, 

And yet without them die. 



122 IIOR.'E LYRICS. 

None knows the pleasure and the pain 
That all my inward powers sustain 
But such as feel a Saviour's love, and love the 
God again. 

Oh why should beauty, heavenly bright. 

Stoop to charm a mortal's sight 
And torture with the sweet excess of light ? 

Our hearts, alas, how frail their make ! 

With their own weight of joy they break. 
Oh, why is love so strong, and nature's self so 
weak ? 

Turn, turn away thine eyes, 

Ascend the azure hills, and shine 
Amongst the happy tenants of the skies. 

They can sustain a vision so divine. 

turn thy lovely glories from me. 
The joys are too intense, the glories overcome me. 

Dear Lord, forgive my rash complaint. 
And love me still 
Against my froward will : 

Unveil thy beauties though I faint. 
Send the great herald from the sky. 
And at the trumpet's awful roar 
This feeble state of things shall fly, 
And pain and pleasure mix no more : 
Then shall I gaze, Avith strengthen'd sight. 
On glories infinitely bright. 

My heart shall all be love, my Jesus all dehght. 



HORiE LYRICS. 123 



LOVE TO CHRIST, PRESENT OR ABSENT 

Of all the joys we mortals know, 
Jesus, thy love exceeds the rest ; 
Love, the best blessing here below, 
And nearest image of the blest. 

Sweet are my thoughts, and soft my cares, 
When the celestial flame I feel ; 
In all my hopes, and all my fears, 
There 's something kind and pleasing still. 

While I am held in his embrace. 
There's not a thought attempts to rove ; 
Each smile he wears upon his face 
Fixes, and charms, and fires my love. 

He speaks, and straight immortal joys 
Run through my ears, and reach my heart ; 
My soul all melts at that dear voice. 
And pleasure shoots through every part. 

If he withdraw a moment's space. 
He leaves a sacred pledge behind ; 
Here in this breast his image stays. 
The grief and comfort of my mind. 



124 HOR^ LYRICJE. 

While of his absence I complain, 
And long, and weep, as lovers do, 
There 's a strange pleasure in the pain, 
And tears have their own sweetness too. 

When round his courts by day I rove. 
Or ask the watchman of the night 
For some kind tidings of my love. 
His very name creates delight. 

Jesus, my God ; yet rather come ; 
Mine eyes would dwell upon thy face ; 
'Tis best to see my Lord at home. 
And feel the presence of his grace. 



THE ABSENCE OF CHRIST. 

Come, lead me to some lofty shade 
Where turtles moan their loves ; 

Tall shadows were for lovers made ; 
And grief becomes the groves. 

'Tis no mean beauty of the ground 
That has enslav'd mine eyes ; 

I faint beneath a nobler wound, 
Nor love below the skies.. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 125 

Jesus, the spring of all that 's bright, 

The Everlasting Fair, 
Heaven's ornament, and heaven's delight, 

Is my eternal care. 

But, ah ! how far above this grove 

Does the bright Charmer dwell ? 
Absence, thou keenest wound to love, 

That sharpest pain, I feel. 

Pensive, I climb the sacred hills, 

And near him vent my woes ; 
Yet his sweet face he still conceals, 

Yet still my passion grows. 

I murmur to the hollow vale, 

I tell the rocks my flame, 
And bless the echo in her cell 

That best repeats his name. 

My passion breathes perpetual sighs. 

Till pitying winds shall hear. 
And gently bear them up the skies, 

And gently wound his ear. 



126 HOK^ LYRICiE. 



DESIRING HIS DESCENT TO EARTH. 

Jesus, I love. Come, dearest name, 
Come and possess this heart of mine ; 
I love, though 'tis a fainter flame, 
And infinitely less than thine. 

! if my Lord would leave the skies, 
Dress'd in the rays of mildest grace, 
My soul should hasten to my eyes 
To meet the pleasures of his face. 

How would I feast on all his charms, 
Then round his lovely feet entwine ! 
Worship and love, in all their forms. 
Should honour beauty so divine. 

In vain the tempter's flattering tongue, 
The world in vain should bid me move. 
In vain ; for I should gaze so long 
Till I were all transform'd to love. 

Then, mighty God, I'd sing and say, 
" What empty names are crowns and kings ! 
" Amongst 'em give these worlds away, 
" These little despicable things." 



HOR^ LYRICS. 127 



I would not ask to climb the sky, 
Nor envy angels their abode, 
I have a heaven as bright and high 
In the bless'd vision of my God. 



ASCENDING TO HBI IN HEAVEN. 

'Tis pure delight without alloy, 

Jesus, to hear thy name. 
My spirit leaps with inward joy, 

I feel the sacred flame. 

My passions hold a pleasing reign. 
While love inspires my breast, 

Love, the divinest of the train. 
The sovereign of the rest. 

This is the grace must live and sing, 
When faith and fear shall cease, 

Must sound from every joyful string 
Through the sweet groves of bliss. 

Let life immortal seize my clay ; 

Let love refine my blood ; 
Her flames can bear my soul away, 

Can bring me near my God. 



128 H0RJ3 LYRICS. 

Swift I ascend the heavenly place, 

And hasten to my home, 
I leap to meet thy kind embrace, 

I come, Lord, I come. 

Sink down, ye separating hills. 
Let guilt and death remove, 

'Tis love that drives my chariot-wheels, 
And death must yield to love. 



THE 

PRESENCE OF GOD WORTH DYING FOR: 

OR, THE DEATH OF MOSES. 

Lord, 'tis an infinite delight 

To see thy holy face. 
To dwell whole ages in thy sight. 

And feel thy vital rays. 

This Gabriel knows ; and sings thy name 

With rapture on his tongue ; 
Moses, the saint, enjoys the same, 

And heaven repeats the song. 



HORiE LYRICS. 129 

While the bright nation sounds thy praise ' 

From each eternal hill, 
Sweet odours of exhaling grace 

The happy region fill. 

Thy love, a sea without a shore, 

Spreads life and joy abroad : 
O 'tis a heaven worth dying for 

To see a smiling God ! 

Show me thy face, and I'll away 

From all inferior things ; 
Speak, Lord, and here I quit my clay, 

And stretch my airy wings. 

Sweet was the journey to the sky, 

The wondrous prophet tried ; 
" Climb up the mount," says God, and " die ; " 

The prophet climb'd and died. 

Softly his fainting head he lay 

Upon his Maker's breast, 
His Maker kiss'd his soul away, 

And laid his flesh to rest. 

In God's own arms he left the breath 

That God's own spirit gave ; 
His was the noblest road to death, 

And his the sweetest grave. 
9 



130 HOR^ LYRICtE. 



LONG FOR HIS RETURN. 

'twas a mournful parting day ! 

Farewell, my spouse,' he said; 
(How tedious, Lord, is thy delay! 

How long my Love hath staid !) 

Farewell ! at once he left the ground, 
And climb'd his Feather's sky : 

Lord, I would tempt thy chariot down, 
Or leap to thee on high. 

Round the creation wild I rove, 
And search the globe in vain ; 

There 's nothing here that 's worth my love 
Till thou return again. 

My passions fly to seek their King, 
And send their groans abroad. 

They beat the air with heavy wing 
And mourn an absent God : 

With inward pain my heart-strings sound, 

My soul dissolves away, 
Dear Sovereign, whirl the seasons round, 

And bring the promis'd day. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 131 



HOPE IN DARKNESS. 

Yet, gracious God, 

Yet will I seek thy smiling face ; 
What though a short eclipse his beauties shroud, 

And bar the influence of his rays, 
'Tis but a morning vapour, or a summer cloud : 
He is my sun, though he refuse to shine, 

Though for a moment he depart 

I dwell for ever on his heart, 
For ever he on mine. 

Early before the light arise 

I '11 spring a thought away to God ; 

The passion of my heart and eyes 

Shall shout a thousand groans and sighs, 
A thousand glances strike the skies. 
The floor of his abode. 

Dear Sovereign, hear thy servant pray, 
Bend the blue heavens, eternal King, 
Downward thy cheerful graces bring ; 
Or shall I breathe in vain and pant my hours away r 
Break, glorious Brightness thro' the gloomy veil, 
Look, how the armies of despair 
Aloft their sooty banners rear 
Round my poor captive soul, and dare 

» 



132 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Pronounce me prisoner of hell. 
But thou, mj Sun, and thou, my Shield, 
Wilt save me in the bloody field ; 
Break, glorious Brightness, shoot one glimmering 
ray, 
One glance of thine creates a day, 
And drives the troops of hell away. 

Happy the times, but ah ! the times are gone 

When wondrous power and radiant grace 
Round the tall arches of the temple shone. 

And mingled their victorious rays : 
Sin, wdth all its ghastly train, 

Fled to the deeps of death again, 
And smiling triumph sat on every face : 

Our spirits, raptur'd with the sight. 

Were all devotion, all delight. 
And loud hosannas sounded the Redeemer's praise. 

Here could I say, 
(And point the place whereon I stood) 
Here I enjoy 'd a visit half the day 
From my descending God : 
I was regal'd with heavenly fare, 
With fruit and manna from above ; 
Divinely sweet the blessings were 
While mine Emmanuel was there : 
And o'er the head 
The conqueror spread 
The banner of his love. 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 133 

Then why my heart sunk down so low ? 
Why do my eyes dissolve and flow, 

And hopeless nature mourn ? 
Review, my soul, those pleasing days, 
Read his unalterable grace 
Through the displeasure of his face, 

And wait a kind return. 
A father's love may raise a frown 
To chide the child, or prove the son. 

But love will ne'er destroy ; 
The hour of darkness is but short. 
Faith be thy life, and patience thy support, 

The morning brings the joy. 



COME, LORD JESUS. 

When shall thy lovely face be seen ? 
When shall our eyes behold our God ? 
What lengths of distance lie between. 
And hills of guilt ; a "heavy load ! 

Our months are ages of delay. 
And slowly every minute wears : 
Fly, winged time, and roll away 
These tedious rounds of sluggish years. 



134 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Ye heavenly gates, loose all your chauis, 
Let the eternal pillars bow ; 
Blest Saviour, cleave the starry plains. 
And make the crystal mountains flow. 

Hark, how thy saints unite their cries, 
And pray and wait the general doom ; 
Come, thou, the Soul of all our joys. 
Thou, the desire of nations, come. 

Put thy bright robes of triumph on, 
And bless our eyes, and bless our ears, 
Thou absent Love, thou dear Unknown, 
Thou fairest of ten thousand fairs. 

Our heart-strings groan with deep complaint, 
Our flesh lies panting, Lord, for thee. 
And every limb, and every joint, 
Stretches for immortality. 

Our spirits shake their eager wings, 
And burn to meet their flying throne ; 
We rise away from mortal things 
To attend thy shining chariot down. 

Now let our cheerful eyes survey 
The blazing earth and melting hills, 
And smile to see the lightnings play. 
And flash along before thy wheels. 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 135 

for a shout of violent joys 
To join the trumpet's thundering sound ! 
The angel-herald shakes the skies, 
A\vakes the graves, and tears the ground. 

Ye slumbering saints, a heavenly host 
Stands waiting at your gaping tombs ; 
Let every sacred sleeping dust 
Leap into life, for Jesus comes. 

Jesus, the God of might and love. 
New moulds our limbs of cumb'rous clay ; 
Quick as seraphic flames we move. 
Active, and young, and fair as they. 

Our airy feet, with unknown flight. 
Swift as the motions of desire. 
Run up the hills of heavenly light, 
And leave the weltering world in fire. 



BEWAILING MY OWN INCONSTANCY. 

I LOVE the Lord ! but, ah ! how far 
My thoughts from the dear object are! 
This wanton heart, how wide it roves ! 
And fancy meets a thousand loves. 



136 HOR^ LYRICiE. 

If my soul burn to see my God, 
I tread the courts of his abode, 
But troops of rivals throng the place, 
And tempt me off before his face. 

Would I enjoy my Lord alone, 
I bid my passions all be gone. 
All but my love ; and charge my will 
To bar the door and guard it still. 

But cares, or trifles, make, or find, 
Still new avenues to the mind. 
Till I with grief and wonder see 
Huge crowds betwixt the Lord and me. 

Oft am I told the muse will prove 
A friend to piety and love ; 
Straight I begin some sacred song. 
And take my Saviour on my tongue. 

Strangely I lose his lovely face, 
To hold the empty sounds in chase ; 
At best the chimes divide my heart. 
And the muse shares the larger part. 

False confidant ! and falser breast ! 
Fickle, and fond of every guest : 
Each airy image, as it flies. 
Here finds admittance through my eyes. 



HORiE LYRICiE. 137 

This foolish heart can leave her God, 
And shadows tempt her thoughts abroad : 
How shall I fix this wandering mind ; 
Or throw my fetters on the wind ? 

Look gently down, almighty Grace, 
Prison me round in thine embrace ; 
Pity the soul that would be thine, 
And let thy power my love confine. 

Say, when shall the bright moment be 
That I shall live alone for thee, 
My heart no foreign lords adore, 
And the wild muse prove false no more ! 



FORSAKEN, YET HOPING 

Happy the hours, the golden days, 
When I could call my Jesus mine. 
And sit and view his smiling face, 
And melt in pleasures all divine. 

jSTear to my heart, within my arms 
He lay, till sin defil'd my breast, 
Till broken vows, and earthly charms, 
Tir'd and provok'd my heavenly guest. 



138 HORiE LYRICS. 

And now he 's gone (0 mighty woe !) 
Gone from m j soul, and hides his love ! 
Curse on you, sins, that griev'd him so, 
Ye sins, that forc'd him to remove. 

Break, break, my heart ; complain, my tongue : 
Hither, my friends, your sorrows bring : 
Angels, assist my doleful song, 
If you have e'er a mournful string. 

But, ah ! your joys are ever high, 
Ever his lovely face you see ; 
While my poor spirits pant and die, 
And groan, for thee, my God, for thee. 

Yet let my hope look through my tears, 
And spy afar his rolling throne ; 
His chariot through the cleaving spheres 
Shall bring the bright Beloved down. 

Swift as a roe flies o'er the hills. 
My soul springs out to meet him high. 
Then the fair Conqueror turns his wheels, 
And climbs the mansions of the sky. 

There smiling joy for ever reigns, 
No more the turtle leaves the dove ; 
Farewell to jealousies and pains. 
And all the ills of absent love. 



HORiE LYRIC.E. 139 



THE CONCLUSION. 

GOD EXALTED ABOVE ALL PRAISE. 

Eternal Power ! whose high abode 
Becomes the grandeur of a God ; 
Infinite length beyond the bounds 
Where stars revolve their little rounds. 

The lowest step above thy seat 

Rises too high for Gabriel's feet, 

In vain the tall archangel tries 

To reach thine height, with wond'ring eyes. 

Thy dazzling beauties whilst he sings. 
He hides his face behind his wings ; 
And ranks of shining thrones around 
Fall, worshipping, and spread the ground. 

Lord, what shall earth and ashes do ? 
We would adore our Maker too ; 
From sin and dust to thee we cry, 
" The Great, the Holy, and the High ! " 



140 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Earth, from afar, has heard the fame, 
And worms have learnt to lisp thy name ; 
But, ! the glories of thy mind 
Leave all our soaring thoughts behind. 

God is in heaven, and men below ; 
Be short, our tunes ; our words be few ; 
A sacred reverence checks our songs, 
And praise sits silent on our tongues. 



" Tibi silet laus, Deus,"' Psal. Ixv. L 



HOR^ LYRICS. 

BOOK II. 
SACRED TO VIRTUE, HONOUR, AND FRIENDSHIP. 



TO HER MAJESTY. 

Queen of the northern world, whose gentle swaj 
Commands our love, and charms our hearts to obey, 
Forgive the nation's groan when William died : 
Lo, at thy feet, in all the loyal pride 
Of blooming joy, three happy realms appear. 
And William's urn almost without a tear 
Stands, nor complains ; while from thy gracious 

tongue 
Peace flows in silver streams amidst the throng. 
Amazing balm, that on those lips was found 
To soothe the torment of that mortal wound. 
And calm the wild affright ! The terror dies, 
The bleeding wound cements, the danger flies, 
And Albion shouts thine honours as her joys arise. 



142 HOR^ LYRICiE. 

The German eagle feels her guardian dead, 
Not her own thunder can secure her head ; 
Her trembling eaglets hasten from afar, 
And Belgia's lion dreads the Gallic war : 
All hide behind thy shield. Remoter lands 
Whose lives lay trusted in Nassovian hands. 
Transfer their souls, and live ; secure they play 
In thy mild rays, and love the growing day. 
Thy beamy wing at once defends and warms 
Fainting religion, whilst, in various forms. 
Fair piety shines through the British isles : 
Here at thy side, and in thy kindest smiles ^ 
Blazing in ornamental gold she stands. 
To bless thy councils, and assist thy hands, 
And croAvds wait round her to receive commands. 
There, at a humble distance from the throne,^ 
Beauteous as she lies ; her lustre all her own, 
Ungarnished ; yet not blushing, nor afraid, 
Nor knows suspicion, nor affects the shade : 
Cheerful and pleas'd, she not presumes to share 
In thy parental gifts, but owns thy guardian care. 
For thee, dear sovereign, endless vows arise. 
And zeal with earthly wing salutes the skies 
To gain thy safety. Here a solemn form^ 
Of ancient words keeps the devotion warm, 
And guides, but bounds our wishes : There the 

mind ^ 
Feels its own fire, and kindles, unconfin'd, 

1 The established Church of England. 
^ The Protestant Dissenters. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 143 

With bolder hopes : Yet still beyond our vows, 
Thy lovely glories rise, thy spreading terror grows. 

Princess, the world already owns thy name : 
Go, mount the chariot of immortal fame. 
Nor die to be renown'd : Fame's loudest breath 
Too dear is purchased by an angel's death. 
The vengeance of thy rod, with general joy, 
Shall scourge rebellion and the rival-boy : ^ 
Thy sounding arms his Gallic patron hears, 
And speeds his flight ; not overtakes his fears, 
Till hard despair wring from the tyrant's soul 
The iron tears out. Let thy frown control 
Our angry jars at home, till wrath submit 
Her impious banners to thy sacred feet. 
Mad zeal, and frenzy, with their murderous train, 
Feel these sweet realms in thine auspicious reign, 
Envy expire in rage, and treason bite the chain. 

Let no black scenes affright fair Albion's stage : 
Thy thread of life prolong our golden age. 
Long bless the earth, and late ascend thy throne, 
Ethereal ; (not thy deeds are there unknown, 
Nor there unsung ; for by thine awful hands 
Heaven rules the waves, and thunders o'er the 
lands, [mands.) 

Creates inferior kings,^ and gives them their com- 



1 The Pretender. 

2 She made Charles, the Emperor's second son, King of 
Spain, who was afterwards Emperor of Germany. 



144 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Legions attend thee at the radiant gates ! 
For thee thy sister-seraph, blest Maria, waits. 

But, oh ! the parting stroke ! some heavenly 

power 
Cheer thy sad Britons in the gloomy hour ; 
Some new propitious star appear on high . 
The fairest glory of the western sky, 
And Anna be its name ; with gentle sway 
To check the planets of malignant ray, 
Soothe the rude north wind, and the rugged bear, 
Calm rising wars, heal the contagious air. 
And reign with peaceful influence to the southern 

sphere. 



Note. This poem was written in the year 1705, in that 
honourable part of the reign of our late queen, Avhen she,had 
broken the French power at Blenheim, asserted the right of 
Charles, the present Emperor, to the crown of Spain, exerted 
her zeal for the Protestant succession, and promised inviola- 
bly to maintain the toleration to the Protestant dissenters. 
Thus she appeared the chief support of the Reformation, and 
the patroness of the liberties of Europe. 

The latter part of her reign was of a different colour, and 
was by no means attended with the accomplishment of those 
glorious hopes which we had conceived. Now the muse can- 
not satisfy herself to publish this new edition, without ac- 
knowledging the mistake of her former presages ; and while 
she does the world this justice, she does herself the honour 
of a voluntary retractation. 

August 1, 1721. 



HORiE LYRICS. 145 



PALINODIA. 

Britons, forgive tlie forward muse 
That dar'd prophetic seals to loose, 
(Unskill'd in fate's eternal book,) 
And the deep characters mistook. 

George is the name, that glorious star ; 
Ye saw his splendors beaming far ; 
Saw in the east your joys arise, 
When Anna sunk in western skies, 
Streaking the heavens with crimson gloom, 
Emblems of tyranny and Rome, 
Portendmg blood and night to come. 
'Twas George diffus'd a vital ray, 
And gave the dying nations day : 
His influence soothes the Russian bear, 
Calms rising wars, and heals the air ; 
Join'd with the sun his beams are hurl'd 
To scatter blessings round the world, 
Fulfil whate'er the muse has spoke. 
And crown the Avork that Anne forsook. 

10 



146 HOR.^ LYRICS. 



TO JOHN LOCKE, ESQ. 

RETIRED FROM BUSINESS. 

Angels are made of heavenly things, 
And hght and love our souls compose, 
Their bliss within their bosom springs. 
Within their bosom flows. 

But narrow minds still make pretence 
To search the coasts of flesh and sense, 
And fetch diviner pleasures thence. 
Men are akin to ethereal forms, 
But they belie their nobler birth, 
Debase their honour down to earth. 

And claim a share with worms. 

He that has treasures of his own. 
May leave the cottage or the throne. 
May quit the globe, and dwell alone 
Within his spacious mind. 

Locke hath a soul wide as the sea, 
Calm as the night, bright as the day. 
There may his vast ideas play, 

Nor feel a thouo;ht confin'd. 



HORiE LYRICS. 147 



TO JOHN SHUTE, ESQ. 

AFTERWARDS LORD BARRINGTON. 

ON MR. Locke's dangerous sickness, some 

TIME AFTER HE HAD RETIRED TO 
STUDY THE SCRIPTURES. 

And must the man of wondrous mind, 
(Now liis rich thoughts are just refin'd) 
Forsake our longing eyes ? 

Eeason at length submits to wear 

The wings of faith ; and lo, they rear 

Her chariot high, and nobly bear 
Her prophet to the skies. 

Go, friend, and wait the prophet's flight, 
Watch if his mantle chance to light, 

And seize it for thy own ; 
Shute is the darling of his years. 
Young Shute his better likeness bears ; 
All but his wrinkles and his hairs 
Are copied in his son. 

Thus when our follies, or our faults. 
Call for the pity of thy thoughts, 



148 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Thy ]oen shall make ns wise : 
The sallies of whose youthful wit 
Could pierce the British fogs with light, 
Place our true^ interest in our sight, 

And open half our eyes. 



FRIENDSHIP. 

TO ME. WILLIAM NOKES. 

Friendship, thou charmer of the mind, 

Thou sweet deluding ill. 
The brightest minute mortals find, 

And sharpest hour we feel. 

Fate has divided all our shares 

Of pleasure and of pain ; 
In love the comforts and the cares 

Are mix'd and join'd again. 

But whilst in floods our sorrow rolls, 

And drops of joy are few, 
This dear delight of mingling souls 

Serves but to swell our woe. 

1 The " Interest of England," written by Mr. Shute. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 149 

Oil ! why should bliss depart in haste, 

And friendship stay to moan ? 
Why the fond passion cling so fast, 

When every joy is gone ? 

Yet never let our hearts divide, 

Nor death dissolve the chain : 
For love and joy were once alhed. 

And must be joined again. 



TO NATHANIEL GOULD, ESQ. 

AFTEKWAEDS SIR ]S\A.THA>'IEL GOULD. 

'Tis not by splendor, nor by state, 

Exalted mien, or lofty gait, 
My muse takes measures of a king : 

If wealth, or height, or bulk will do, 
She calls each mountain of Peru 
A more majestic thing. 

Frown on me, friend, if e'er I boast , 
O'er fellow-minds, enslav'd in clay, 

Or swell when I shall have engross'd 

A larger heap of shining dust, 
And wear a bigger load of earth than they. 

Let the vain world salute me loud. 
My thoughts look inward and forget 



150 HORiE LYRICS. 

The sounding names of High and Great, 
The flatteries of the crowd. 

When Gould commands his ships to run 
And search the traffic of the sea, 
His fleet o'ertakes the falling day, 
And bears the western mines away, 
Or richer spices from the rising sun ; 
While the glad tenants of the shore 
Shout, and pronounce him senator,^ 

Yet still the man 's the same : 
For well the happy merchant knows 
The soul with treasure never grows, 

Nor swells with airy fame. 

But trust me, Gould, 'tis lawful pride 
To rise above the mean control 
Of flesh and sense, to which we 're tied ; 
This is ambition that becomes a soul. 
We steer our course up through the skies ; 

Farewell this barren land : 
We ken the heavenly shore with longing eyes 
There the dear wealth of spirits lies, 
And beckoning angels stand. 

1 Member of Parliament for a port in Sussex. 



HORiE LYRICiE. 151 



THE LIFE OF SOULS. 

TO DR. THOMAS GIBSON. 

Swift as the sun revolves the day, 

We hasten to the dead, 
Slaves to the wind, we puff away, 

And to the ground we tread. 
'Tis air that lends us life, when first 

The vital billows heave : 
Our flesh we borrow of the dust ; 
And when a mother's care has nurst 
The babe to manly size, we must 

With usury pay the grave. 

Rich juleps drawn from precious ore 

Still tend the dying flame : 
And plants, and roots of barb'rous name. 

Torn from the Indian shore. 
Thus we support our tott'ring flesh, 

Our cheeks resume the rose afresh, 
When bark and steel play well their game 

To save our sinking breath. 
And Gibson, with his awful power, 
Rescues the poor precarious hour 

From the demands of death. 



]'52 nOR.E LYRIC^E. 

But art and nature, jDowers and charms, 
And drugs, and recipes, and forms, 
Yield us, at last, to greedy worms 

A despicable prey ; 
I 'd have a life to call my own. 
That shall depend on heaven alone ; 

Nor air, nor earth, nor sea 
Mix their base essences with mine. 
Nor claim dominion so divine 

To give me leave to be. 

Sure there 's a mind within, that reigns 
O'er the dull current of my veins ; 
I feel the inward pulse beat high 
With vigorous immortality. 
Let earth resume the flesh it gave. 
And breath dissolve amongst the winds ; 
Gibson, the things that fear a grave, 
That I can lose, or you can save. 
Are not akin to minds. 

"We claim acquaintance with the skies, 
Upward our spirits hourly rise. 

And there our thoughts employ : 
When heaven shall sign our grand release. 
We are no strangers to the place. 

The business, or the joy. 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 153 



FALSE GREATNESS. 



Mylo, forbear to call him bless'd 
That only boasts a large estate, 
Should all the treasures of the west 
Meet, and conspire to make him great. 
I know thy better thoughts, I know 
Thy reason can't descend so low. 
Let a broad stream, with golden sands, 

Through all his meadows roll. 
He 's but a wretch, with all his lands, 

That wears a narrow soul. 

He swells amidst his wealthy store, 
And proudly poising what he weighs. 
In his own scale he fondly lays 

Huge heaps of shining ore. 
He spreads the balance wide to hold 

His manors and his farms. 
And cheats the beam with loads of gold 

He hugs between his arms. 
So might the ploughboy climb a tree, 

When Cra3sus mounts his throne, 
And both stand up, and smile to see 

How long their shadow 's grown. 
Alas ! how vain their fancies be 

To think that shape their own ! 



154 HOR^ LYRICJE. 

Thus mingled still with wealth and state, 
Croesus himself can never know ; 
His true dimensions and his weight 
Are far inferior to their show. 
Were I so tall to reach the pole, 
Or grasp the ocean with my span, 
I must be measur'd by my soul : 
The mind's the standard of the man. 



AN EPISTLE. 

TO SARISSA. 

Bear up, Sarissa, through the ruffling storms 
Of a vain vexing world : Tread down the cares. 
Those ragged thorns, that lie across the road, 
Nor spend a tear upon them. Trust the muse. 
She sings experienc'd truth : This briny dew, 
This rain of eyes, will make the briars grow. 
We travel through a desert, and our feet 
Have measur'd a fair space, have left behind 
A thousand dangers, and a thousand snares. 
Well 'scap'd. Adieu, ye horrors of the dark, 
Ye finish'd labours, and ye tedious toils 
Of days and hours : the twinge of real smart, 
And the false terrors of ill-boding dreams, 
Vanish together, be alike forgot. 
For ever blended in one common grave. 



HOK^ LYRICS. 155 

Farewell, ye waxing and ye waning moons, 
That we have watch'd behind the flying clouds 
On night's dark hill, or setting or ascending, 
Or in meridian height : then silence reign'd 
O'er half the world ; then ye beheld our tears, 
Ye witness'd our complaints, our kindred groans, 
(Sad harmony!) w^hile with your beamy horns. 
Or richer orb, ye silver'd o'er the green 
Where trod our feet, and lent a feeble light 
To mourners. Now ye have fulfill'd your round. 
Those hours are fled, farewell. Months that are 

gone 
Are gone for ever, and have borne away 
Each his own load. Our woes and sorrows past, 
Mountainous woes, still lessen as they fly 
Far off. So, billows in a stormy sea. 
Wave after wave (a long succession) roll 
Beyond the ken of sight : the sailors safe. 
Look far astern till they have lost the storm. 
And shout their boisterous joys. A gentler muse 
Sings thy dear safety, and commands thy cares 
To dark oblivion ; buried deep in night 
Lose them, Sarissa, and assist my song. 

Awake thy voice, sing how the slender line 
Of fates immortal now divides the past 
From all the future, with eternal bars 
Forbidding a return. The past temptations 
No more shall vex us ; every grief we feel 
Shortens the destin'd number ; every pulse 



156 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Beats a sharp moment of the pain awaj, 
And the last stroke will come. By swift degrees 
Time sweeps us off, and we shall soon arrive 
At life's sweet period : celestial point 
That ends this mortal story ! 

But if a glimpse of light with flattering ray 
Breaks thro' the clouds of life, or wandering fire 
Amidst the shades invite your doubtful feet, 
Beware the dancing meteor, faithless guide, 
That leads the lonesome pilgrim wide astray 
To bogs, and fens, and pits, and certain death ! 
Should vicious pleasure take an angel-form, 
And at a distance rise, by slow degrees, 
Treacherous, to wind herself into your heart. 
Stand firm aloof; nor let the gaudy phantom 
Too long allure your gaze : the just delight 
That heaven indulges lawful, must obey 
Superior powers ; nor tempt your thoughts too far 
In slavery to sense, nor swell your hope 
To dangerous size : if it approach your feet 
And court your hand, forbid the intruding joy 
To sit too near your heart. Still may our souls 
Claim kindred with the skies, nor mix with dust 
Our better-born affections ; leave the globe 
A nest for worms, and hasten to our home. 

there are gardens of the immortal kind, 
That crown the heavenly Eden's rising hills 
With beauty and with sweets ; no lurking mischief 



HOR^ LYRICS. 157 

Dwells in the fruit, nor serpent twines the boughs; 
The branches bend laden with life and bKss 
Eipe for the taste, but 'tis a steep ascent : 
Hold fast the golden chain^ let down from heaven, 
'Twill help your feet and wings ; I feel its force 
Draw upwards ; fastened to the pearly gate, 
It guides the way unerring : happy clue 
Thro' this dark wild ! 'Twas wisdom's noblest work, 
All join'd by power divine, and every link is love. 



PARADISE. 

TO MR. T. BRADBURY. 

Young as I am, I quit the stage, 

Nor will I know the applauses of the age ; 

Farewell to growing fame. I leave below 

A life not half worn out with cares. 
Or agonies, or years ; 

I leave my country all in tears ; 
But heaven demands me upward, and I dare to go. 

Amongst ye, friends, divide and share 
The remnant of my days, 

If ye have patience, and can bear 
A long fatigue of life, and drudge thro' all the race. 

1 The Gospel. 



158 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Hark ! my fair guardian chides my stay, 

And waves his golden rod : 
" Angel, I come ; lead on the way : " 

And now by swift degrees 
I sail aloft through azure seas, 
Now tread the milky road : 
Farewell, ye planets, in your spheres ; 
And as the stars are lost, a brighter sky appears. 

In haste for j^aradise 
I stretch the pinions of a bolder thought ; 

Scarce had I will'd, but I was past 
Deserts of trackless light, and all the ethereal waste, 

And to the sacred borders brought ; 
There on the wing a guard of cherubs lies. 
Each waves a keen flame as he flies, 
And well defends the walls from sieges and surprise. 

With pleasing reverence, I behold 
The pearly portals wide unfold : 
Enter, my soul, and view the amazing scenes ; 
Sit fast upon the flying muse, 
And let thy roving wonder loose 
O'er all the empyreal plains. 
Noon stands eternal here : here may thy sight 
Drink in the rays of primogenial light ; 
Here breathe immortal air: 
Joy must beat high in every vein. 
Pleasure through all thy bosom reign ; 
The laws forbid the stranger, pain, 
And banish every care. 



I HOR^ LYRICS. 159 

See how the bubbling springs of love 

Beneath the throne arise ; 
The streams in crystal channels move, 
Around the golden streets they rove, 
And bless the mansions of the upper skies. 
There a fair grove of knowledge grows. 
Nor sin nor death infects the fruit ; 
Young life hangs fresh on all the boughs, 
And springs from every root ; 
Here may thy greedy senses feast 
While ecstasy and health attends on every taste. 

With the fair prospect charm'd I stood ; 
Fearless I feed on the delicious fare. 
And drink, profuse, salvation from the silver flood, 
Nor can excess be there. 

In sacred order rang'd along 

Saints, new-releas'd by death. 
Join the bold seraphs' warbling breath. 

And aid the immortal song. 
Each has a voice that tunes his strings 
To mighty sounds, and mighty things, 
Things of everlasting weight. 
Sounds, like the softer viol, sweet. 

And like the trumpet, strong. 
Divine attention held my soul, 
I was all ear ! 
Through all my powers the heavenly accents roll, 
I long'd and wish'd my Bradbury there ; 
" Could he but hear these notes," I said. 



160 HORiE LYRICS. 

" His tuneful soul would never bear 
'' The dull unwinding of life's tedious thread, 
" But burst the vital chords to reach the happy 
dead." 

And now my tongue prepares to join 
The harmony, and with a noble aim 
Attempts the unutterable name, 
But faints, confounded by the notes divine : 
Again my soul the unequal honour sought, 

Again her utmost force she brought. 
And bow'd beneath the burden of the unwieldy 
thought. 
Thrice I essay'd, and fainted thrice ; 
The immortal labor strain'd my feeble frame, 
Broke the bright vision, and dissolv'd the dream ; 
I sunk at once, and lost the skies : 
In vain I sought the scenes of light, 
Rolling abroad my longing eyes. 
For all around them stood my curtains and the 
nif^ht. 



STRICT RELIGION VERT RARE. 

I 'm borne aloft, and leave the crowd, 
I sail upon a morning cloud 



HORiE LYRICS. 161 

Skirted with dawning gold : 
Mine eyes beneath the opening day, 
Command the globe with wide survey, 
Where ants in busy millions play, 

And tug and heave the mould. 

" Are these the things," my passion cried, 
" That we call men ? Are these allied 

" To the fair worlds of light ? 
" They have 'ras'd out their Maker's name, 
" Graven on their minds with pointed flame, 
" In strokes divinely bright. 

" Wretches ! they hate their native skies ; 
" If an ethereal thought arise, 

" Or spark of virtue shine, 
" With cruel force, they damp its plumes, 
" Choke the young fire with sensual fumes, 

" With business, lust, or wine. 

" Lo ! how they throng, with panting breath, 

" The broad descending road 
" That leads unerring down to death, 

" Nor miss the dark abode." 
Thus while I drop a tear or two 
On the wild herd, a nobler few 
Dare to stray upward, and pursue 

The unbeaten way to God. 

11 



162 HOR^ LYRICS. 

I meet Myrtillo mounting high, 
I know his candid soul afar ; 
Here Dorylus and Thyrsis fly, 

Each like a rising star, 
Charin I saw, and Fidea there, 
I saw them help each other's flight. 

And bless them as they go. 

They soar beyond my labouring sight, 
And leave their loads of mortal care. 

But not their love, below. 
On heaven, their home, they fix their eyes, 

The temple of their God : 
With morning incense up they rise 
Sublime, and through the lower skies 

Spread the perfumes abroad. 

Across the road a seraph flew, 

•' Mark (said he) that happy pair, 

'' Marriage helps devotion there : 

'• When kindred minds their God pursue, 

'' They bre'ak with double vigour through 

" The dull incumbent air." 
Charm'd with the pleasure and surprise. 

My soul adores and sings, 
'' Bless'd be the power that springs their flight, 
■• That streaks their path with heavenly light, 
-' That turns their love to sacrifice, 

" And joins their zeal for wings." 



HOR^ LYRICS. 163 



TO MESSRS. C. AND S. FLEETWOOD. 

Fleetwoods, young generous pair, 

Despise the joys that fools pursue; 

Bubbles are light and brittle too. 

Born of the water and the air. 

Tried by a standard, bold and just. 
Honour and gold, and paint and dust ; 

How vile the last is, and as vain the first! 
Things that the crowd call great and brave, 
With me how low their value 's brought ! 
Titles and names, and life and breath, 
Slaves to the wind, and born for death ; 
The soul 's the only thing we have 
Worth an important thought. 

The soul ! 'tis of the immortal kind, 
Nor form'd of fire, or earth, or wind. 
Outlives the mouldering corpse, and leaves the 
globe behind. 
In limbs of clay though she appears, 
Array'd in rosy skin, and deck'd with ears and 
eyes. 
The flesh is but the soul's disguise. 
There 's nothino^ in her frame 'kin to the dress she 



164 HOR^ LYRICS. 

From all the laws of matter free, 
From all we feel, and all we see, 
She stands eternally distinct, and must forever be. 

Rise then, my thoughts, on high, 
Soar beyond all that 's made to die ; 

Lo ! on an awful throne 
Sits the Creator and the Judge of souls. 
Whirling the planets round the poles, 
Winds off our threads of life, and brings our 

periods on. 
Swift the approach, and solemn is the day, 
When this immortal mind, 
Stripp'd of the body's coarse array, 
To endless pain, or endless joy, 
Must be at once consign'd. 

Think of the sands run down to waste. 

We possess none of all the past, 

None but the present is our own ; 

Grace is not plac'd within our power, 

'Tis but one short, one shining hour, 
Bright and declining as a setting sun. 

See the white minutes, wing'd with hast« ; 

The 7101V that flies may be the last ; 
Seize the salvation e'er 'tis past. 
Nor mourn the blessing gone : 

A thought's delay is ruin here, 

A closing eye, a gasping breath, 

Shuts up the golden scene in death, 
And drowns you in despair. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 165 



TO WILLIAM BLACKBOURN, ESQ. 

CASIMIR. LIB. II. OD. 2, IMITATED. 
" Qu£e tegit canas modo Bruma valles," &c. 

Mark how it snows ! how fast the valley fills ! 
And the sweet groves the hoaiy garment wear; 
Yet the warm sunbeams, bounding from the hills, 
Shall melt the veil away, and the young green 
appear. 

But when old age has on your temples shed 
Her silver-frost, there 's no returning sun ; 
Swift flies our autumn, swift our summer 's fled, 
When youth, and love, and spring, and golden 
joys are gone. 

Then cold, and winter, and your aged snow, 
Stick fast upon you ; not the rich array. 
Not the green garland, nor the rosy bough 
Shall cancel or conceal the melancholy gray. 

The chase of pleasure is not worth the pains, 
While the bright sands of health run wasting down ; 
And honour calls you from the softer scenes, 
To sell the gaudy hour for ages of renown. 



166 HORiE LYRICS. 

'Tis but one youth, and short, that mortals have, 
And one old age dissolves our feeble frame ; 
But there 's a heavenly art to elude the grave, 
And with the hero-race immortal kindred claim. 

The man that has his country's sacred tears 
Bedewing his cold hearse, has liv'd his day : 
Thus, Blackbourn, we should leave our names our 

heirs ; 
Old time and waning moons sweep all the rest 

away. 



TEUE MONARCHY. 

The rising year beheld the imperious Gaul 
Stretch his dominion, while a hundred towns 
Crouch'd to the victor : but a steady soul 
Stands firm on its own base, and reigns as wide, 
As absolute ; and sways ten thousand slaves, 
Lusts and wild fancies, with a sovereign hand. 

We are a little kingdom ; but the man 
That chains his rebel will to reason's throne, 
Forms it a large one, whilst his royal mind 
Makes heaven its council, from the rolls above 
Draws his own statutes, and with joy obeys. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 167 

'Tis not a troop of well-appointed guards 
Create a monarch, not a purple robe, 
Dy'd in the people's blood ; not all the crowns 
Or dazzling tiars that bend about the head, 
Tho' gilt with sunbeams, and set round with stars. 
A monarch he that conquers all his fears. 
And treads upon them ; when he stands alone, 
Makes his own camp ; four guardian virtues wait 
His nightly slumbers, and secure his dreams. 
Now dawns the light ; he ranges all his thoughts 
In square battalions, bold to meet the attacks 
Of time and chance, himself a numerous host. 
All eye, all ear, all wakeful as the day. 
Firm as a rock, and moveless as the centre. 

In vain the harlot, pleasure, spreads her charms, 
To lull his thoughts in luxury's fair lap, 
To sensual ease (the bane of little kings, 
Monarchs, whose waxen images of souls 
Are moulded into softness) still his mind 
Wears its own shape, nor can the heavenly form 
Stoop to be modell'd by the wild decrees 
Of the mad vulgar, that unthinking herd. 

He lives above the crowd, nor hears the noise 
Of wars and triumphs, nor regards the shouts 
Of popular applause, that empty sound ; 
Nor feels the flying arrows of reproach, 
Or spite or envy. In himself secure. 
Wisdom his tower, and conscience is his shield, 
His peace all inward, and his joys his own. 



168 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Now my ambition swells, ray wishes soar, 
This be my kingdom ; sit above the globe, 
My rising soul, and dress thyself around. 
And shine in virtue's armour ; climb the height 
Of wisdom's lofty castle, there reside 
Safe from the smiling and the frowning world. 

Yet once a day drop down a gentle look 
On the great molehill, and with pitying eye 
Survey the busy emmets round the heap. 
Crowding and bustling in a thousand forms 
Of strife and toil, to purchase wealth and fame, 
A bubble or a dust : Then call thy thoughts 
Up to thyself to feed on joys unknown, 
Rich without gold, and great without renown. 



TRUE COURAGE. 

Honour demands my song. Forget the ground. 
My generous muse, and sit amongst the stars ! 
There sing the soul, that, conscious of her birth. 
Lives like a native of the vital world. 
Amongst these dying clods, and bears her state 
Just to herself: how nobly she maintains 
Her character ; superior to the flesh, 
She wields her passions like her limbs, and knows 
The brutal powers were only born to obey. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 169 

This is the man whom storms could never make 
Meanly complain ; nor can a flattering gale 
Make him talk proudly : he hath no desire 
To read his secret fate ; yet, unconcern'd 
And calm, could meet his unborn destiny. 
In all its charming, or its frightful shapes. 

He that, unshrinking, and without a groan, 
Bears the first wound, may finish all the war 
With mere courageous silence, and come off 
Conqueror : for the man that well conceals 
The heavy strokes of fate, he bears them well. 

He, though the Atlantic and the Midland seas 
With adverse surges meet, and rise on high 
Suspended 'twixt the winds, then rush amain. 
Mingled with flames, upon his single head, 
And clouds, and stars, and thunder, firm he stands, 
Secure of his best life ; unhurt, unmov'd ; 
And drops his lower nature, born for death. 
Then from the lofty castle of his mind 
Sublime looks down, exulting, and surveys 
The ruins of creation (souls alone 
Are heirs of dying worlds ;) a piercing glance 
Shoots upwards from between his closing lids, 
To reach his birthplace, and without a sigh 
He bids his batter'd flesh lie gently down 
Amongst his native rubbish ; whilst the spirit 
Breathes and flies upward, an undoubted guest 
Of the third heaven, the unruinable sky. 



170 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Thither, when fate has brought our willing souls, 
No matter whether 'twas a sharp disease, 
Or a sharp sword, that help'd the travellers on. 
And push'd us to our home. Bear up, my friend, 
Serenely, and break through the stormy brine 
With steady prow ; know, we shall once arrive 
At the fair haven of eternal bliss, 
To which we ever steer ; whether, as kings. 
Of wide command, we 've spread the spacious sea 
With a broad painted fleet, or row'd along 
In a thin cockboat, with a little oar. 

There let my native plank shift me to land, 
And I '11 be happy : Thus I '11 leap ashore. 
Joyful and fearless, on the immortal coast, 
Since all I leave is mortal, and it must be lost. 



FREE PHILOSOPHY. 

TO THE MUCH HONOURED MR. THOMAS ROWE, 
THE DIRECTOR OF MY YOUTHFUL STUDIES. 

Custom, that tyranness of fools. 
That leads the learned round the schools. 
In magic chains of forms and rules ! 
My genius storms her throne : 



HOR^ LYRICS. 171 

No more, ye slaves, with awe profound, 
Beat the dull track, nor dance the round ; 
Loose hands, and quit the enchanted ground : 

Knowledge invites us each alone. 
I hate these shackles of the mind, 

Forg'd bj the haughty wise ; 
Souls were not born to be confin'd. 
And led, like Samson, blind and bound ; 
But when his native strength he found 

He well aveng'd his eyes. 
I love thy gentle influence, Rowe, 
Thy gentle influence like the sun, 
Only dissolves the frozen snow. 
Then bids our thoughts like rivers flow, 
And choose the channels where they run. 

Thoughts should be free as fire or wind ; 
The pinions of a single mind 

Will through all nature fly : 
But who can drag up to the poles 
Long fetter'd ranks of leaden souls ; 
A genius which no chain controls 
Roves with delight, or deep, or high : 
Swift I survey the globe around. 
Dive to the centre through the solid ground, 

Or travel o'er the sky. 



172 HOK^ LYRICS. 



THE WAY OF THE MULTITUDE. 

TO THE KEY. MR. BENONI ROWE. 

RowE, if we make the crowd our guide 

Through life's uncertain road, 
Mean is the chase ; and, wandering wide, 

We miss the immortal good ; 
Yet, if my thoughts could be confin'd 
To follow any leader-mind, 
I 'd mark thy steps, and tread the same : 
Dress'd in thy notions, I'd appear, 
Not like a soul of mortal frame. 

Nor with a vulgar air. 

Men live at random, and by chance. 

Bright reason never leads the dance ; 
Whilst in the broad and beaten way. 

O'er dales and hills from truth we stray, 
To ruin we descend, to ruin we advance. 

Wisdom retires, she hates the crowd, 
And, with a decent scorn. 
Aloof she climbs her steepy seat. 
Where not the grave nor giddy feet 
Of the learn'd vulgar, or the rude, 

Have e'er a passage worn. 



UOBM LYRICS. 173 

Mere hazard first began the track, 
Where custom leads her thousands blind, 

In willing chains and strong ; 
There's scarce one bold, one noble mind, 
Dares tread the fatal error back ; 
But, hand in hand, ourselves we bind, 
And drag the age along. 

Mortals, a savage herd, and loud 
As billows on a noisy flood, 

In rapid order roll : 
Example makes the mischief good : 
With jocund heel we beat the road, 

Unheedful of the goal. J 

Me let Ithuriel's friendly wing ^ 

Snatch from the crowd, and bear sublime 

To wisdom's lofty tower ; 
Thence to survey that wretched thing, 
Mankind ; and in exalted rhyme 

Bless the delivermg power. 



TO THE KEY. ME. JOHN HOWE. 

Gkeat man, permit the muse to climb, 

And seat her at thy feet ; 
Bid her attempt a thought sublime, 

And consecrate her wit. 

/ 



174 HOR^ LYRICS. 

I feel, I feel the attractive force 

Of thy superior soul : 
My chariot flies her upward course, 

The wheels divinely roll. 
Now let me chide the mean affairs 

And mighty toil of men : 
How they grow gray in trifling cares, 
Or waste the motions of the spheres 

Upon delights as vain ! 
A puff of honour fills the mind, 
And yellow dust is solid good ; 
Thus, like the ass of savage kind. 
We snuff the breezes of the wind, 

Or steal the serpent's food. 
Could all the choirs 
That charm the poles 

But strike one doleful sound, 
'Twould be employ'd to mourn our souls, 
Souls that were fram'd of sprightly fires. 

In floods of folly drown'd. 
Souls made of glory seek a brutal joy ; 

How they disclaim their heavenly birth, 
Melt their bright substance down with drossy earth, 
And hate to be refin'd from that impure alloy. 
Oft has thy genius rous'd us hence. 

With elevated song, 
Bid us renounce this world of sense. 
Bid us divide the immortal prize 

With the seraphic throng : 
" Knowledge and love make spirits blest, 



HOR^ LYRICS. 175 

" Knowledge their food, and love their rest ; " 
But flesh, the unmanageable beast, 
Resists the pity of thine eyes, 

And music of thy tongue. 
Then let the worms of grov'ling mind 
Round the short joys of earthly kind, 

In restless windings, roam ; 
Howe hath an ample orb of soul. 
Where shining worlds of knowledge roll, 
Where love, the centre and the pole, 

Completes the heaven at home. 



THE DISAPPOINTMENT AND RELIEF. 

Virtue, permit my fancy to impose 

Upon my better powers : 
She casts sweet fallacies on half our woes, 

And gilds the gloomy hours. 
How could we bear this tedious round 
Of waning moons, and rolling years, 
Of flaming hopes, and chilling fears, 
If (where no sovereign cure appears) 

No opiates could be found. 
Love, the most cordial stream that flows, 
Is a deceitful good ; 
Young Doris, who nor guilt nor danger knows, 
On the green margin stood, 



176 HORiE LYRICS. 

Pleas'd with the golden bubbles as they rose, 
And with more golden sands her fancy pav'd the 
flood; 

Then, fond to be entirely blest, 

And tempted by a faithless youth, 

As void of goodness as of truth, 

She plunges in, with heedless haste. 
And rears the nether mud : 

Darkness and nauseous dregs arise 
O'er thy fair current, love, with large supplies 
Of pain to tease the heart, and sorrow for the eyes. 

The golden bliss, that charm'd her sight. 
Is dash'd, and drown'd, and lost : 

A spark, or glimmering streak, at most, 

Shines here and there, amidst the night. 
Amidst the turbid waves, and gives a faint delight. 

Recover'd from the sad surprise, 

Doris awakes at last, 
Grown by the disappointment wise ; 
And manages with art the unlucky cast ; 
When the lowering frown she spies 
On her haughty tyrant's brow. 
With humble love she meets his wrathful eyes. 

And makes her sovereign beauty bow ; 
Cheerful, she smiles upon the grizzly form ; 
So shines the setting sun on adverse skies. 

And paints a rainbow on the storm. 

Anon, she lets the sullen humour spend, 

And with a virtuous book or friend, 



HOR^ LYRICS. 177 

Beguiles the uneasy hours : 
"Well colouring every cross she meets, 
With heart serene, she sleeps and eats, 
She spreads her board with fancied sweets. 

And strows her bed with flowers. 



THE HERO'S SCHOOL OF MORALITY. 

Theron, amongst his travels, found 
A broken statue on the ground ; 
And searching onward, as he went. 
He trac'd a ruin'd monument. 
Mould, moss, and shades had overgrown 
The sculpture of the crumbling stone. 
Yet, e'er he pass'd, wdth much ado. 
He guess'd, and spell'd out sci-pi-o. 

" Enough, " he cried ; " I'll drudge no more 
" In turning the dull Stoics o'er ; 
" Let pedants waste their hours of ease 
" To sweat all night at Socrates ; 
" And feed their boys with notes and rules, 
" Those tedious recipes of schools, 
" To cure ambition : I can learn 
" With greater ease, the great concern 
" Of mortals ; how we may despise 
" All the gay things below the skies. 
12 



178 HOR^ LYRICS. 

" Methinks a mouldering pyramid 
" Says all that the old sages said ; 
" For me these shatter'd tombs contain 
" More morals than the Vatican. 
" The dust of heroes cast abroad, 
" And kick'd, and trampled in the road, 
" The relics of a lofty mind, 
" That lately wars and crowns design'd, 
"Tost for a jest from wind to wind, 
" Bid me be humble, and forbear 
" Tall monuments of fame to rear, 
" They are but castles in the air. 
" The towering heights, and frightful falls, 
" The ruin'd heaps, and funerals, 
" Of smoking kingdoms and their kings, 
" Tell me a thousand mournful things 

" In melancholy silence 

" He 

'• That living could not bear to see 

" An equal, now lies torn and dead ; 

" Here his pale trunk, and there his head ; 

" Great Pompey, while I meditate, 

" With solemn horror, thy sad fate, 

" Thy carcass, scatter'd on the shore 

" Without a name, instructs me more 

" Than my whole library before> 

" Lie still, my Plutarch, then, and sleep, 
" And my good Seneca may keep 
" Your volumes clos'd for ever too, 
" I have no further use for you : 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 179 

" For when I feel my virtue fail, 
" And my ambitious thoughts prevail, 
" I '11 take a turn among the tombs, 
'' And see whereto all glory comes : 
" There the vile foot of every clown 
" Tramples the sons of honour down. 
'' Beggars with awful ash"fes sport, 
" And tread the Caesars in the dirt." 



FREEDOM. 

Tempt me no more. My soul can ne'er comport 

With the gay slaveries of a court ; 

I've an aversion to those charms. 
And hug dear liberty in both mine arms. 

Go, vassal souls, go, cringe and wait. 
And dance attendance at Honorio's gate. 
Then run in troops before him, to compose his state ; 
Move as he moves ; and when he loiters stand ; 

You 're but the shadows of a man. 

Bend when he speaks ; and kiss the ground : 

Go, catch the impertinence of sound : 

Adore the follies of the great ; 
Wait till he smiles : But lo, the idol frown'd, 

And drove them to their fate. 

Thus base-born minds : but as for me, 
I can and will be free : 



180 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Like a strong mountain, or some stately tree, 

My soul grows firm upright, 
And as I stand, and as I go, 

It keeps my body so. 

No ! I can never part with my creation-right ; 
Let slaves and asses stoop and bow, 

I cannot make this iron knee [it free. 

Bend to a meaner power than that which form'd 

Thus my bold harp profusely play'd, 
Pindarical ; then on a branchy shade 
I hung my harp aloft, myself beneath it laid. 

Nature, that listen'd to my strain, 
Resum'd the theme, and acted it again, 

Sudden rose a whirling wind. 

Swelling like Honorio proud. 

Around the straws and feathers crowd. 
Types of a slavish mind ; 

Upwards the stormy forces rise, 

The dust flies up and climbs the skies, 
And as the tempest fell, the obedient vapours sunk : 
Again it roars with bellowing sound, 

The meaner plants that grew around, 
The willow, and the asp, trembled and kiss'd the 
ground ; 

Hard by there stood the iron trunk 
Of an old oak, and all the storm defied ; 

In vain the winds their forces tried, 

In vain they roar'd, the iron oak 
Bow'd only to the heavenly thunder's stroke. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 181 



ON MR. LOCKE'S ANNOTATIONS 

UPON SEVERAL PARTS OF THE NEW TESTA- 
MENT, LEFT IN MS. 

Thus reason learns by slow degrees, 
What faith reveals ; but still complains 
Of intellectual pains, 

And darkness from the too exuberant light. 
The blaze of those bright mysteries 
Pour'd, all at once, on nature's eyes, 
Offend and cloud her feeble sight. 

Reason could scarce sustain to see 
The almighty One, the eternal Three, 
Or bear the infant deity ; 
Scarce could her pride descend to own 
Her Maker stooping from his throne. 
And drest in glories so unknown. 
A ransom'd world, a bleeding God, 
And heaven appeas'd with flowing blood. 
Were themes too painful to be understood. 

Faith, thou bright cherub, speak, and say 
Did ever mind of mortal race 
Cost thee more toil, or larger grace. 
To melt and bend it to obey. 



182 HORiE LYRICiE. 

'Twas hard to make so rich a soul submit, 
And lay her shining honours at thy sovereign feet. 
Sister of faith, fair charity. 
Show me the wondrous man on high. 
Tell how he sees the Godhead Three in One ; 
The bright conviction fills his eye, 
His noblest powers in deep prostration lie 
At the mysterious throne. 
" Forgive," he cries, " ye saints below, 
" The wavering and the cold assent 
" I gave to themes divinely true ; 
" Can you admit the blessed to repent ? 
" Eternal darkness veil the lines 
" Of that unhappy book, 
" Where glimmering reason with false lustre shines, 
" Where the mere mortal pen mistook 
" What the celestial meant ? 



TRUE RICHES. 

I AM not concern'd to know 
What to-morrow fate will do ; 
'Tis enough that I can say, 
I 've possess'd myself to-day : 
Then if haply midnight death 
Seize my flesh, and stop my breath. 
Yet to-morrow I shall be 
Heir to the best part of me. 



HOR^ LYKIC^. 183 

Glittering stones, and golden things, 
Wealth and honours that have wings, 
Ever fluttering to be gone, 
I could never call my own : 
Riches that the world bestows. 
She can take, and I can lose ; 
But the treasures that are mine 
Lie afar beyond her line. 
When I view my spacious soul, 
And survey myself a whole. 
And enjoy myself alone, 
I 'm a kingdom of ray own. 

I've a mighty part within, 
That the world hath never seen. 
Rich as Eden's happy ground, 
And with choicer plenty crown'd. 
Here on all the shining boughs 
Knowledge fair and useful grows ; 
On the same young flowery tree 
All the seasons you may see ; 
Notions in the bloom of light. 
Just disclosing to the sight ; 
Here are thoughts of larger growth. 
Ripening into solid truth : 
Fruits refin'd, of noble taste ; 
Seraphs feed on such repast. 
Here, in a green and a shady grove, 
Streams of pleasure mix with love : 
There, beneath the smiling skies. 
Hills of contemplation rise ; 



184 HOR^ LYRICuE. 

Now upon some shining top 
Angels light, and call me up ; 
I rejoice to raise my feet, 
Both rejoice when there we meet. 

There are endless beauties more 
Earth hath no resemblance for ; 
Nothing like them round the pole. 
Nothing can describe the soul : 
'Tis a region half unknown, 
That has treasures of its own, 
More remote from public view 
Than the bowels of Peru ; 
Broader 'tis, and brighter far. 
Than the golden Indies are ; 
Ships that trace the watery stage 
Cannot coast it in an age ; 
Harts, or horses, strong and fleet. 
Had they wings to help their feet, 
Could not run it half way o'er 
In ten thousand days and more. 

Yet the silly wandering mind. 
Loth to be too much confin'd. 
Roves and takes her daily tours, 
Coasting round the narrow shores, 
Narrow shores of flesh and sense. 
Picking shells and pebbles thence : 
Or she sits at fancy's door, 
Calling shapes and shadows to her, 



HOR^ LYRICS. 185 

Foreign visits still receiving, 
And to herself a stranger living. 
Never, never would she buy 
Indian dust, or Tyrian dye. 
Never trade abroad for more, 
If she saw her native store ; 
If her inward worth were known, 
She might ever live alone. 



THE ADVENTUROUS MUSE. 

Urania takes her morning flight 

With an inimitable wing : 
Through rising deluges of dawning light 

She cleaves her wond'rous way, 
She tunes immortal anthems to the growing day ; 
Nor Rapin^ give her rules to fly, nor Purcell^ 
notes to sing. 
She nor inquires, nor knows, nor fears 
Where lie the pointed rocks, or where the ingulfing 

sand ; 
Climbing the liquid mountains of the skies, 
She meets descending angels as she flies, 
Nor asks them where their country lies. 
Or where the sea-marks stand. 

1 A French critic. 2 An English master of music. 



186 HOR^E LYRICS. 

Toucla'd with an empyreal ray, 
She springs, unerring, upward to eternal day, 

Spreads her white sails aloft, and steers, 
With bold and safe attempt, to the celestial land. 

Whilst little skiffs along the mortal shores 

With humble toil in order creep. 
Coasting in sight of one another's oars, 

Nor venture through the boundless deep. 

Such low pretending souls are they 
Who dwell inclos'd in solid orbs of skull ; 

Plodding along their sober way, 
The snail o'ertakes them in their wildest play, 
While the poor labourers sweat to be correctly dull. 

Give me the chariot whose diviner wheels 
Mark their own route, and, unconfin'd. 
Bound o'er the everlasting hills, [behind. 

And lose the clouds below, and leave the stars 
Give me the muse whose generous force. 
Impatient of the reins. 
Pursues an unattempted course. 
Breaks all the critic's iron chains, 
And bears to paradise the raptur'd mind. 

There Milton dwells : the mortal sung 
Themes not presum'd by mortal tongue ; 
New terrors, or new glories, shine 

In every page, and flying scenes divine [along. 

Surprise the wond'ring sense, and draw our souls 



nOR^ LYRICS. 187 

Behold his muse sent out to explore 
The unapparent deep, where waves of chaos roar, 

And realms of night unknown before. 

She trac'd a glorious path unknown, 
Through fields of heavenly war, and seraphs 
overthrown. 

Where his adventurous genius led : 
Sovereign, she fram'd a model of her own, 

Nor thank'd the living nor the dead. 
The noble hater of degenerate rhyme 
Shook off the chains, and built his verse sublime, 
A monument too high for coupled sound to climb. 

He mourn'd the Garden lost below ; 

(Earth is the scene for tuneful woe) 

Now bliss beats high in all his veins, 

Now the lost Eden he regains. 
Keeps his own air, and triumphs in unrivall'd 
strains. 

Immortal bard ! Thus thy own Raphael sings, 

And knows no rule but native fire : 
All heaven sits silent, while to his sovereign strings 

He talks unutterable things ; 
With graces infinite, his untaught fingers rove 
Across the golden lyre : 
From every note devotion springs, 
Rapture, and harmony, and love, 
O'erspread the listening choir. 



188 HOR^ LYRICS. 



THE COMPLAINT. 

TO MR. NICHOLAS CLARK. 

'TwAS in a vale where osiers grow, 

By murmuring streams, we told our woe, 

And mingled all our cares : 
Friendship sat pleas'd in both our eyes. 
In both the weeping dews arise, 

And drop alternate tears. 

The vigorous monarch of the day. 
Now mounting half his morning way. 

Shone with a fainter bright; 
Still sickening, and decaying still, 
Dimly he wander'd up the hiU, 

With his expiring light. 

In dark eclipse his chariot roU'd, 
The queen of night obscur'd his gold 

Behind her sable wheels ; 
Nature grew sad to lose the day. 
The flow'ry vales in mourning lay. 

In mourning stood the hills. 



HOK^ LYRICS. 189 

Such are our sorrows, Clark, I cried, 
Clouds of the brain grow black, and hide 

Our darken'd souls behind ; 
In the young morning of our years 
Distemp'ring fogs have climb'd the spheres 

And choke the labouring mind. 

Lo, the gay planet rears his head, 
And overlooks the lofty shade, 

New-brightening all the skies : 
But say, dear partner of my moan, 
"When will our long eclipse be gone, 

Or when our suns arise ? 

In vain are potent herbs applied, 
Harmonious sounds in vain have tried 

To make the darkness fly : 
But drugs would raise the dead as soon, 
Or clattering brass relieve the moon. 

When fainting in the sky. 

Some friendly spirit from above, 
Born of the light, and nurst with love, 

Assist our feebler fires : 
Force these invading glooms away ; 
Souls should be seen quite through their clay, 

Bright as your heavenly choirs. 

But if the fogs must damp the flame. 
Gently, kind death, dissolve our frame. 



190 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Release the prisoner-mind : 
Our souls shall mount, at thy discharge, 
To their bright source, and shine at large 

Nor clouded, nor confin'd. 



THE AFFLICTIONS OF A FRIEND. 

Now let my cares all buried lie, 

My griefs for ever dumb : 
Your sorrows swell my heart so high, 

They leave my own no room. 

Sickness and pains are quite forgot. 

The spleen itself is gone ; 
Plung'd in your woes I feel them not. 

Or feel them all in one. 

Infinite grief puts sense to flight, 

And all the soul invades : 
So the broad gloom of spreading night 

Devours the evening shades. 

Thus am I born to be unblest ! 

This sympathy of woe 
Drives my own tyrants from my breast 

To admit a foreio^n foe. 



UORJE LYRICS. 191 

Sorrows in long succession reign ; 

Their iron rod I feel : 
Friendship has only chang'd the chain, 

But I'm the jDrisoner still. 

Why was this life for misery made ? 

Or why drawn out so long ? 
Is there no room amongst the dead ? 

Or is a wretch too young ? 

Move faster on, great nature's wheel, 

Be kind, ye rolling powers. 
Hurl my days headlong down the hill 

With undistinguish'd hours. 

Be dusky, all my rising suns, 

Nor smile upon a slave : 
Darkness and death, make haste at once 

To hide me in the grave. 



THE REVERSE: 

OR, THE COMFORTS OF A FRIEND. 

Thus nature tun'd her mournful tongue, 

Till grace lift up her head, 
Kevers'd the sorrow and the song. 

And, smiling, thus she said : 



192 HORiE LYRICS. 

"Were kindred spirits born for cares ? 

Must every grief be mine ? 
Is there a sympathy in tears, 

Yet joys refuse to join ? 

Forbid it, heaven, and raise my love, 
And make our joys the same ; 

So bliss and friendship join'd above 
Mix an immortal flame. 

Sorrows are lost in vast delight 
That brightens all the soul. 

As deluges of dawning light 
O'er whelm the dusky pole. 

Pleasures in long succession reign, 
And all my powers employ : 

Friendship but shifts the pleasing scene. 
And fresh repeats the joy. 

Life has a soft and silver thread, 

Nor is it drawn too long ; 
Yet, when my vaster hopes persuade, 

I 'm willing to be gone 

Fast as ye please roll down the hill, 
And haste away, my years ; 

Or I can wait my Father's will. 
And dwell beneath the spheres. 



IIOK^ LYRICS. 193 

Rise glorious every future sun, 

Gild all my following days, 
But make the last dear moment known 

By well distinguish'd rays. 



THE HAEDY SOLDIER. 

TO THE RT. HON. JOHN LORD CUTTS, AT THE 
SIEGE OF NAMUR. 

" O WHY is man so thoughtless grown 
" Why guilty souls in haste to die ? 
" Venturing the leap to worlds unknown, 
" Heedless to arms and blood they fly. 

" Are lives but worth a soldier's pay ? 
" Why wiU ye join such wide extremes, 
" And stake immortal souls, in play 
" At desperate chance, and bloody games ! 

" Valour's a nobler turn of thought, 
" Whose pardon'd guilt forbids her fears : 
" Calmly she meets the deadly shot ! 
" Secure of life above the stars. 
13 



194 HOR^ LYRIC-'E. 

" But frenzy dares eternal fate, 

" And, spurr'd with honour's airy dreams, 

" Flies to attack the infernal gate, 

" And force a passage to the flames. 

Thus hovering o'er Namuria's plains. 
Sung heavenly love, in Gabriel's form : 
Young Thraso felt the moving strains. 
And vow'd to pray before the storm. 

Anon the thundering trumpet calls ; 
Vows are but wind, the hero cries ; 
Then swears by heaven, and scales the walls. 
Drops in the ditch, despairs, and dies. 



BURNING SEVERAL POEMS OF OYIB, 
MARTIAL, OLDHAM, DRYDEN, &c. 

I JUDGE the muse of lewd desire ; 

Her sons to darkness, and her works to fire. 

In vain the flatteries of their wit 
Now with a melting strain, now with a heavenly 
flight, 

Would tempt my virtue to approve 
Those gaudy tinders of a lawless love. 



nOR.E LYRICuE. 105 

So harlots dress : They can appear 
Sweet, modest, cool, divinely fair. 
To charm a Cato's eye ; but all within. 
Stench, impudence, and fire, and ugly raging sin. 

Die, Flora, die in endless shame. 

Thou prostitute of blackest fame, 

Stript of thy false array. 

Ovid, and all ye wilder pens 

Of modern lust, who gild our scenes. 
Poison the British stage, and paint damnation gay, 

Attend your mistress to the dead ; [shade. 

When Flora dies, her imps should wait upon her 

StrejDhon,^ of noble blood and mind, 
(For ever shine his name !) 

As death approach'd, his soul refin'd. 
And gave his looser sonnets to the flame. 

" Burn, burn," he cried with sacred rage, 

" Hell is the due of every page, 
'• Hell be the fate. (But O indulgent heaven ! 
" So vile the muse, and yet the man forgiven !) 
'' Burn on, my songs : For not the silver Thames 

" Nor Tyber, with his yellow streams, 
'' In endless currents rolling to the main, 
" Can e'er dilute the poison, or wash out the stain." 

So, Moses, by divine command. 

Forbade the leprous house to stand 
When deep the fatal spot was grown ; 
" Break down the timber, and dig up the stone." 
1 Karl of Rochester. 



196 HOR^ LYRICiE. 



AGAINST TEAES. 

TO MRS. B. BENDISH. 

Madam, persuade me tears are good 
To wash our mortal cares away : 
These eyes shall weep a sudden flood, 
And stream into a briny sea. 

Or if these orbs are hard and dry, 
(These orbs that never use to rain) 
Some star direct me where to buy 
One sovereign drop for all my pain. 

"Were both the golden Indies mine, 
I'd give both Indies for a tear: 
I 'd barter all but what 's divine : 
Nor shall I think the bargain dear. 

But tears, alas ! are trifling things. 
They rather feed than heal our woe ; 
From trickling eyes new sorrow springs, 
As weeds in rainy seasons grow. 



HORiE LYRICS. 197 

Thus weeping urges weeping on ; 
In vain our miseries hope relief, 
For one drop calls another down, 
Till we are drown'd in seas of grief. 

Then let these useless streams be staid, 
Wear native courage on your face : 
These vulgar things were never made 
For souls of a superior race. 

If 'tis a rugged path you go, 
And thousand foes your steps surround. 
Tread the thorns down, charge through the foe ; 
The hardest fidit is highest crown'd. 



FEW HAPPY MATCHES. 

Say, mighty Love, and teach my song. 
To whom my sweetest joys belong, 

And who the happy pairs 
Whose yielding hearts, and joming hands, 
Find blessings twisted with their bands. 

To soften all their cares. 

Not the wild herd of nymphs and swains 
That thoughtless fly into thy chains, 



198 HOR^ LYRICS. 

As custom leads the way : 
If there be bliss without design, 
Ivies and oaks may grow and twine, 

And be as blest as they. 

Not sordid souls of earthly mould, 
Who, drawn by kindred charms of gold, 

To dull embraces move ; 
So two rich mountains of Peru 
May rush to wealthy man'iage too. 

And make a world of love, v 

Not the mad tribe that hell inspires 
With wanton flames ; those raging fires 

The purer bliss destroy : 
On Etna's top let furies wed, 
And sheets of lightning dress the bed 

To improve the burning joy. 

Nor the dull pairs whose marble forms 
None of the melting passions warms, 

Can mingle hearts and hands : 
Logs of green wood that quench the coals 
Are married just like Stoic souls. 

With osiers for their bands. 

Not minds of melancholy strain, 
Still silent, or that still complain. 

Can the dear bondage bless : 
As well may heavenly consorts spring 



HORiE LYRICS. 199 

From two old lutes with ne'er a string, 
Or none besides the bass. 

Nor can the soft enchantments hold 
Two jarring souls of angry mould, 

The rugged and the keen ; 
Samson's young foxes might as well 
In bands of cheerful wedlock dwell, 

VYith firebrands tied between. 

Nor let the cruel fetters bind 
A gentle to a savage mind ; 

For love abhors the sight : 
Loose the fierce tiger from the deer, 
For native rage and native fear 

Kise and forbid delight. 

Two kindest souls alone must meet, 
'Tis friendship makes the bondage sweet, 

And feeds their mutual loves : 
Bright Venus on her rolling throne 
Is drawn by gentlest birds alone. 

And Cupids yoke the doves. 



200 HOR^ LTRICiE. 



AN EPISTLE. 

TO DAYID POLHILL, ESQ. >' 

Let useless souls to woods retreat ; 
Polhill should leave a country seat 
When virtue bids him dare be great. 

;Nor Kent/ nor Sussex,^ should have charms, 
While liberty, with loud alarms, 
Calls you to counsels and to arms. 

Lewis by fawning slaves ador'd. 
Bids you receive a base-bom lord ; ^ 
Awake your cares ! awake your sword ! 

Factions amongst the Britons ^ rise. 
And warring tongues, and wild surmise, 
And burning zeal without her eyes. 

A vote decides the blind debate ; 
Resolv'd, " 'tis of diviner weight, 
" To save the steeple than the state." 



1 His country-seat and dwelling. 

2 The Pretender, proclaimed King in France. 

3 The Parliament, 



H0RJ3 LYKIC^. 201 

The bold machine^ is form'd and join'd 
To stretcli the conscience, and to bind 
The native freedom of the mind. 

Your grandsire shades, with jealous eye 
Frown down to see their offspring lie 
Careless, and let their country die. . 

If Trevia ^ fear to let you stand 
Against the Gaul, with spear in hand, 
At least petition for ^ the land. 



THE CELEBRATED VICTORY 

OF THE POLES OVER OSMAN, THE TURKISH 
EMPEROR, IN THE DACIAjST BATTLE. 

TKAXSLATED FEOM CASIMIKE, B. IV. OD. 4. WITH LAEGE 
ADDITIONS. 

Gad OR the old, the wealthy, and the strong. 
Cheerful in years (nor of the heroic muse 
Unknowing, nor unknown) held fair possessions 

1 The bill against occasional conformity. 

2 ]\'Irs. PolMU, of the famHy of Lord Trevor. 

3 'Mx. Polhill -was one of those five zealous gentlemen who 
presented the famous Kentish petition to the parliament, in 
the reign of King William, to hasten their supplies in order 
to support the king in his war with France, 



202 HOR^ LYKIC^. 

Where flows the fruitful Danube : Seventy springs 
Smil'd on his seed, and seventy harvest-moons 
Fill'd his wide granaries with autumnal joy : 
Still he resum'd the toil ; and fame reports, 
While he broke up new ground, and tir'd his 

plough 
In grassy furrows, the torn earth disclos'd 
Helmets, and swords (bright furniture of war 
Sleeping in rust) and heaps of mighty bones. 
The sun descending to the western deep 
Bid him lie down and rest ; he loos'd the yoke, 
Yet held his wearied oxen from their food 
With charming numbers, and uncommon song. 
Go, fellow-labourers, you may rove secure, 
Or feed beside me ; taste the greens and boughs 
That you have long forgot; crop the sweet herb, 
And graze in safety, while the victor Pole 
Leans on his spear, and breathes ; yet still his eye 
Jealous and fierce. How large, old soldier, say. 
How fair a harvest of the slaughter'd Turks 
Strew'd the Moldavian fields ? What mighty piles 
Of vast destruction, and of Thracian dead. 
Fill and amaze my eyes ! Broad bucklers lie 
(A vain defence) spread o'er the pathless hills, 
And coats of scaly steel, and hard habergeon, 
Deep-bruis'd, and empty of Mahometan limbs. 
This the fierce Saracen wore (for when a boy, 
I was their captive and remind their dress :) 
Here the Polonians dreadful raarch'd along 
In august port and regular array. 



liORyE LYRICJE. 203 

Led on to conquest : Here the Turkish chief 
Presumptuous trod, and in rude order rang'd 
His long battalions, while his populous towns 
Pour'd out fresh troops perpetual, drest in arms, 
Horrent in mail, and gay in spangled pride. 

O the dire image of the bloody fight 
These eyes have seen, when the capacious plain 
Was throng'd with Dacian spears ; when polish'd 

helms 
And convex gold blaz'd thick against the sun 
Restoring all his beams ! but frowning war. 
All gloomy, like a gather'd tempest, stood 
Wavering, and doubtful where to bend its fall. 

The storm of missive steel delay'd awhile 
By wise command ; fledg'd arrows on the nerve ; 
And scymetar and sabre bore the sheath 
Reluctant ; till the hollow brazen clouds 
Had bellow'd from each quarter of the field 
Loud thunder, and disgorg'd their sulphurous fire, 
Then banners wav'd, and arms were mix'd with 

arms ; 
Then javelins answer'd javelins as they fled, 
For both fled hissing death : with adverse edge 
The crook'd fauchions met ; and hideous noise 
From clashing shields, thro' the long ranks of Avar, 
Clang'd horrible. A thousand iron storms 
Roar diverse : and in harsh confusion drown 
The trumpet's silver sound. O rude effort 
Of harmony ! not all the frozen stores 
Of the cold north, when pour'd in rattling hail, 



204 HOE^ LYRICiE. 

Lash with such madness the Norwegian plains, 
Or so torment the ear. Scarce sounds so far 
The direful fragor, when some southern -blast 
Tears from the Alps a ridge of knotty oaks 
Deep fang'd, and ancient tenants of the rock : 
The massy fragment, many a rood in length, 
With hideous crash, rolls down the rugged chff 
Resistless, plunging in the subject lake 
Como, or Lugaine ; the afflicted waters roar, 
And various thunder all the valley fills ; 
Such was the noise of war : the troubled air 
Complains aloud, and propagates the din 
To neighbouring regions ; rocks and lofty hills 
Beat the impetuous echoes round the sky. 

Uproar, revenge, and rage and hate, appear 
In all their murd'rous forms ; and flame, and blood, 
And sweat, and dust, array the broad campaign 
In horror : hasty feet, and sparkling eyes. 
And all the savage passions of the soul 
Engage in the warm business of the day. 
Here mingling hands, but with no friendly gripe, 
Join in the fight ; and breasts in close embrace. 
But mortal, as the iron arms of death. 
Here words austere, of perilous command. 
And valour swift to obey, bold feats of arms 
Dreadful to see, and glorious to relate. 
Shine thro' the field with more surprising brightness 
Than glittering helms or spears. What loud ap- 
plause, 
(Best meed of warlike toil) what manly shouts, 



HOR^ LYllIC^. 205 

And yells unmanly through the battle ring! 
And sudden wrath dies into endless fame. 

Long did the fate of war hang dubious. Here 
Stood the more numerous Turk, the valiant Pole 
Fought here ; more dreadful tho' with lesser wings. 

But what the Dahees or the coward soul 
Of a Cydonian, what the fearful crowds 
Of base Cicihans 'scaping from the slaughter, 
Of Parthian beasts, with all their racing riders, 
What could they mean against the intrepid breast 
Of the pursuing foe ? The impetuous Poles 
Rush here, and here the Lithuanian horse 
Drive down upon them like a double bolt 
Of kindled thunder raging through the sky 
On sounding wheels ; or as some mighty flood 
Rolls his two torrents down a dreadful steep 
Precipitant, and bears along the stream. 
Rocks, woods, and trees, with all the grazing herd, 
And tumbles lofty forests headlong to the plain. 

The bold Borussian, smoking from afar. 
Moves like a tempest in a dusky cloud. 
And imitates the artillery of heaven. 
The lightning and the roar. Amazing scene ! 
What showers of mortal hail, what flaky fires 
Burst from the darkness ! while their cohorts firm 
Met the like thunder and an equal storm, 
From hostile troops, but with a braver mind. 
Undaunted bosoms tempt the edge of war, [chiefs. 
And rush on the sharp point ; Vv^hile baleful mis- 
Deaths, and bright dangers, flew across the field 



206 IIOR^ LYRICiE. 

Thick and continual, and a thousand souls 

Fled murmuring thro' their wounds. I stood aloof, 

For 'twas unsafe to come within the wind 

Of Russian banners, when with whizzing sound, 

Eager of glory, and profuse of life, 

They bore down fearless on the charging foes. 

And drove them backward. Then the Turkish 

moons 
Wander'd in disarray. A dark eclipse 
Hung on the silver crescent, boding night. 
Long night, to all her sons : at length disrob'd 
The standards fell : the barb'rous ensigns, torn, 
Fled with the wind, the sport of angry heaven ; 
And a large cloud of infantry and horse. 
Scattering in wild disorder, spread the plain. 

Not noise nor number, nor the brawny limb, 
Nor high-built size prevails : 'Tis courage fights, 
'Tis courage conquers. So whole forests fall 
(A spacious ruin) by one single axe. 
And steel well sharpen'd: so a generous pair 
Of young wing'd eaglets fright a thousand doves. 

Vast was the slaughter, and the flowery green 
Drank deep of flowing crimson. Veteran bands 
Here made their last campaign. Here haughty 

chiefs, 
Stretch'd on the bed of purple honour, lie 
Supine, nor dream of battle's hard event, 
Oppress'd with iron slumbers, and long night. 
Their ghosts indignant to the nether world 
Fled, but attended well : for at their side 



HOK^ LYRICS. 207 

Some faithful Janizaries strew'd the field, 
Fallen in just ranks or wedges, lunes or squares, 
Firm as they stood ; to the Warsovian troops, 
A nobler toil, and triumph worth their fight. 
But the broad sabre and keen poleaxe flew 
With speedy terror through the feebler herd. 
And made rude havoc and ii'regular spoil 
Amongst the vulgar bands that own'd the name 
Of Mahomet. The wild Arabians fled 
In swift aflfright, a thousand different ways. 
Through brakes and thorns, and climb'd the craggy 

mountains 
Bellowing ; yet hasty fate o'ertook the cry, 
And Polish hunters clave the timorous deer. 

Thus the dire prospect distant fiU'd my soul 
With awe ; till the last relics of the war. 
The thin Edonians, flying had disclos'd 
The ghastly plain : I took a nearer view. 
Unseemly to the sight, nor to the smell 
Grateful. What loads of mangled flesh and limbs, 
(A dismal carnage !) bath'd in reeking gore, 
Lay weltering on the ground ; while flitting life 
Convuls'd the nerves still shivering, nor had lost 
All taste of pain ! Here an old Thracian Hes 
Deform'd wdth years and scars, and groans aloud. 
Torn with fresh wounds ; but inward vitals firm 
Forbid the soul's remove, and chain it down 
By the hard laws of nature, to sustain 
Long torment : his wild eyeballs roll : his teeth. 
Gnashing with anguish, chide his lingerinor fate. 



208 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Emblazon'd armour spoke his high command 
Amongst the neighbouring dead ; they round their 

lord 
Lay prostrate ; some in flight ignobly slain, 
Some to the skies their faces upwards turn'd, 
Still brave and proud to die so near their prince. 

I mov'd not far, and lo, at manly length 
Two beauteous youths, of richest Ott'man blood, 
Extended on the field : in friendship join'd, 
Nor fate divides them : hardy warriors both ; 
Both faithful ; drown'd in showers of darts they fell, 
Each with his shield spread o'er his lover's heart 
In vain : for on those orbs of friendly brass 
Stood groves of javelins ; some, alas, too deep 
"Were planted there, and thro' their lovely bosoms 
Made painful avenues for cruel death. 

my dear native land, forgive the tear 

1 dropt on their wan cheeks, when strong compas- 

sion 
Forc'd from my melting eyes the briny dew, 
And paid a sacrifice to hostile virtue. 
Dacia, forgive the sigh that wish'd the souls 
Of those fair Infidels some humble place 
Among the blest. " Sleep, sleep, ye hapless pair," 
Gently, I cried, " worthy of better fate, 
" And better faith." Hard by the general lay, 
Of Saracen descent, a grisly form, 
Breathless, yet pride sat pale upon his front 
In disappointment, with a surly brow 
Low'ring in death, and vext; his rigid jaws, 



HOR^ LYRICS. 209 

Foaming with blood, bite bard the Polish spear : 
In that dead visage my remembrance reads 
Rash Caracas : in vain the boasting slave 
Promis'd and sooth'd the Sultan, threat'ning fierce, 
With royal suppers and triumphant fare 
Spread wide beneath Warsovian silk and gold ; 
See on the naked ground all cold he lies. 
Beneath the damp wide covering of the air, 
Forgetful of his word. How heaven confounds 
Insulting hopes ! with what an awful smile 
Laughs at the proud, that loosen all the reins 
To their unbounded wishes, and leads on 
Their blind ambition to a shameful end ! 

But whither am I borne ! this thought of arms 
Fires me in vain to sing to senseless bulls 
What generous horse should hear. Break off, my 

song. 
My barb'rous muse, be still : immortal deeds 
Must not be thus profan'd m rustic verse : 
The martial trumpet, and the following age 
And growuig fame, shall loud rehearse the fight 
In sounds of glory. Lo, the evening star 
Shines o'er the western hill ; my oxen, come. 
The well-known star invites the labourer home. 



14 



210 HOR.E LYRICS. 



TO MR. HENRY BENDISH. 

Dear Sir, 

The following song was yours, when first composed ; the 
muse then described the general fate of mankind, that is, to 
be ill-matched; and now she rejoices that you have escaped 
the common mischief, and that your soul has found its own 
mate. Let this ode, then, congratulate you both. Grow mu- 
tually in more complete likeness and love: Persevere, and 
be happy. 

I persuade myself you will accept from the press what the 
pen more privately inscribed to you, long ago ; and I am in 
no pain lest you should take offence at the fabulous di-ess of 
this poem : Nor would weaker minds be scandalized at it, if 
they would give themselves leave to reflect how many divine 
truths are spoken by the holy writers in visions and images, 
parables and dreams : Nor are my wiser friends ashamed to 
defend it, since the narrative is grave, and the moral so just 
and obvious. 



THE INDIAN PHILOSOPHER. 

Why should our joys transform to pain ? 
Why gentle Hymen's silken chain 

A plague of iron prove ? 
Bendish, 'tis strange the charm that binds 
3Iillions of hands, should leave their minds 

At such a loose from love. 

In vain I sought the wond'rous cause, 
Rang'd the wide fields of nature's laws, 



HORiE LYRICS. 211 

And urg'd the schools in vain ; 
Then deep in thought, within my breast 
My soul retir'd,. and slumber dress'd 

A bright instructive scene. 

O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide. 
On fancy's airy horse I ride, 

(Sweet rapture of my mind !) 
Till on the banks of Ganges flood, 
In a tall ancient grove I stood 

For sacred use design'd. 

Hard by, a venerable priest. 

Risen with his god, the sun, from rest, 

Awoke his morning song ; 
Thrice he conjur'd the murmuring stream ; 
The birth of souls was all his theme. 

And half-divine his tongue. 

" He sang the eternal rolling flame, 
" That vital mass, that still the same 

" Does all our minds compose : 
" But shaped in twice ten thousand frames : 
" Thence differing souls of differing names, 

" And jarring tempers rose. 

" The mighty power that form'd the mind 
" One mould for every two design'd, 
" And bless'd the new-born pair : 
" This be a match for this (he said) : 



212 HOKiE LYRICJE. 

" Then down he sent the souls he made, 
" To seek them bodies here. 

" But parting from their ^varm abode 
'" They lost their fellows on the road, 

" And never join'd their hands. 
" Ah cruel chance, and crossing fates ! 
" Our eastern souls have dropp'd their mates 

" On Europe's barb'rous lands. 

" Happy the youth that finds the bride 
" Whose birth is to his own allied, 

^' The sweetest joy of life : 
" But oh, the crowds of wretched souls 
" Fetter'd to minds of different moulds, 

'•' And chain'd to eternal strife ! " 

Thus sang the wondrous Indian bard ; 
My soul with vast attention heard. 

While Ganges ceas'd to flow : 
" Sure then (I cried) might I but see 
" That gentle nymph that twinn'd with me, 

" I may be happy too. 

" Some courteous angel tell me where, 
" What distant lands this unknown fair, 

" Or distant seas detain ? 
" Swift as the wheel of nature rolls 
"I'd fly, to meet, and mingle souls, 

" And wear the joyful chain." 



HOK^ LYRIC^E. 213 



^ THE HAPPY MAN. 

Serene as light is Myron's soul, 

And active as the sun, yet steady as the pole : 

In manly beauty shines his face ; 
Every muse, and every grace. 

Makes his heart and tongue their seat ; 
His heart profusely good, his tongue divinely sweet. 

Myron, the wonder of our eyes. 

Behold his manhood scarce begun ! 

Behold the race of virtue run ! 

Behold the goal of glory won ! 
Nor fame denies the merit, nor withholds the prize ; 
Her silver trumpets his renown proclaim : 
The lands where learning never flew, 

Which neither Rome nor Athens knew. 

Surly Japan and rich Peru, 
In barb'rous songs, pronounce the British hero's 
name. 

" Airy bhss (the hero cried) 
" May feed the tympany of pride ; 



214 HOKiE LYRICS. 

" But healthy souls were never found 
" To live on emptiness and sound.'* 

Lo, at his honourable feet 
Fame's bright attendant, wealth, appears ; 
She comes to pay obedience meet, 
Providing joys for future years ; 
Blessings with lavish hand she pours, 
Gather'd from the Indian coast ; * 
Not Danae's lap could equal treasures boast. 
When Jove came down in golden showers. 

He look'd and turn'd his eyes away, 
With high disdain I heard him say, 
" Bliss is not made of glittering clay." 

Now pomp and grandeur court his head 
With 'scutcheons, arms, and ensigns spread ; 
Gay magnificence and state, 
Guards, and chariots, at his gate. 
And slaves in endless order round his table wait. 
They learn the dictates of his eyes. 
And now they fall, and now they rise. 
Watch every motion of their lord, 
Hang on his lips with most impatient zeal, 
With swift ambition seize the unfinish'd word. 
And the command fulfil. 
Tir'd with the train that grandeur brings. 
He dropp'd a tear, and pitied kings, 



HOR^ LYRICS. 215 

Then, flying from the noisy throng, 
Seeks the diversion of a song. 

Music, descending on a silent cloud, 

Tun'd all her strings, with endless art ; 
By slow degrees from soft to loud 
Changing she rose : the harp and flute 

Harmonious join, the hero to salute. 
And make a captive of his heart. 

Fruits, and rich wine, and scenes of lawless love 
Each with utmost luxury strove 
To treat their favourite best ; 
But sounding strings, and fruits, and wine, 
And lawless love, in vain combine 

To make his virtue sleep, or lull his soul to rest. 

He saw the tedious round, and, with a sigh, 
Pronounc'd the world but vanity. 
" In crowds of pleasure still I find 
" A painful solitude of mind. 

" A vacancy within, which sense can ne'er supply, 
" Hence, and be gone, ye flattering snares, 
" Ye vulgar charms of eyes and ears, 
" Ye unperforming promisors ! 
" Be all my baser passions dead, 
" And base desires, by nature made 

" For animals and boys : 
" Man has a relish more refin'd, 
" Souls are for social bliss design'd, 



21 G HOR^ LYRICS. 

•• Give me a blessing fit to match my mind, 

" A kindred soul to double and to share my joys : ' 

Myrrha appear'd : Serene her soul, 
And active as the sun, yet steady as the pole 

In softer beauties shone her face ; 

Every muse and every grace. 

Made her heart and tongue their seat, 
Her heart profusely good, her tongue divinely 
sweet : 
His heart recoil'd with sweet surprise, 
Myrrha the wonder of his eyes ; 

With joys unknown before: 
His soul dissolv'd in pleasing pain, 
Flow'd to his eyes, and look'd again. 

And could endure no more. 
'' Enough," the impatient hero cries 

And seiz'd her to his breast, 
" I seek no more below the skies, 

" I give my slaves the rest." 



HOE^ LYRICiE. 217 



TO DAVID POLHILL, ESQ. 

SlE, 

When 5'ou put this sathre into my hand, you gave me the 
occasion of employing my pen to answer so detestable a 
writing; which might be done much more effectually by 
your known zeal for the interest of his majesty, your counsels 
and your courage employed in the defence of your king and 
country. And since you provoked me to write, you wiU ac- 
cept of these efforts of my loyalty to the best of kings, ad- 
dressed to one of the most zealous of his subjects, by. Sir, 
Your most obedient servant, I. W. 



AN ANSWER TO AN INFAMOUS SATIRE, 

CALLED, " ADVICE TO A PALNTER ; " 



WBITTEN BY AN ANONYMOUS AUTHOR, AGAINST KING 
WTLLIAM in. OF GLORIOUS MEMORY. 



And must the hero that redeem'd our land, 
Here in the front of vice and scandal stand ? 
The man of wondrous soul, that scorn'd his ease, 
Tempting the winters, and the faithless seas, 
And paid an annual tribute of his life 
To guard his England from the Irish knife, 



218 nORyE LYRICiE. 

And crusli the French dragoon ? Must William's 

name, 
That brightest star that gilds the wings of fame, 
William the brave, the pious, and the just. 
Adorn these gloomy scenes of tyranny and lust ? 

Polhill, my blood boils high, my spirits flame ; 
Can your zeal sleep ! Or are your passions tame ? 
Nor call revenge and darkness on the Poet's name ? 
Why smoke the skies not ? Why no thunders roll ? 
Nor kindling lightnings blast his guilty soul ? 
Audacious wretch, to stab a monarch's fame, 
And fire his subjects with a rebel-flame ; 
To call the painter to his black designs, 
To draw our guardian's face in hellish lines. 
Painter, beware ! the monarch can be shown 
Under no shape but angel's, or his own, 
Gabriel, or William, on the British throne. 

O ! could my thought but grasp the vast design. 
And words with infinite ideas join, 
I 'd rouse Apelles from his iron sleep. 
And bid him trace the warrior o'er the deep : 
Trace him, Apelles, o'er the Belgian plain ; 
Fierce, how he climbs the mountains of the slain, 
Scattering just vengeance thro' the red campaign. 
Then dash the canvas with a flying stroke, 
Till it be lost in clouds of fire and smoke. 
And say, 'Twas thus the conqueror through the 
squadrons broke. 

Mark him again emerging from the cloud. 
Far from his troops ; there, like a rock, he stood 



HORiE LYRICS. 219 

His country's single barrier in a sea of blood. 
Calmlj he leaves the pleasure of a throne, 
And his Maria weeping, whilst alone 
He wards the fate of nations, and provokes his own : 
But heaven secures its champion ; o'er the field 
Paint hovering angels ; though they fly conceal'd, 
Each intercepts a death, and wears it on his shield. 

Now, noble pencil, lead him to our isle, 
Mark how the skies, with joyful lustre, smile ! 
Then imitate the glory ; on the strand 
Spread half the nation longing till he land. 
Wash off the blood, and take a peaceful teint. 
All red the warrior, white the ruler paint ; 
Abroad a hero, and at home a saint. 
Throne him on high upon a shining seat, 
Lust and profaneness dying at his feet, 
While round his head the laurel and the olive meet. 
The crowns of war and peace : and may they blow 
With flowery blessings ever on his brow. 
At his right hand pile up the English laws 
In sacred volumes ; thence the monarch draws 

His wise and just commands 

Rise, ye old sages of the British isle. 

On the fair tablet cast a reverend smile. 

And bless the piece ; these statutes are your own. 

That sway the cottage and direct the throne ; 

People and prince are one in William's name. 

Their joys, their dangers, and their laws the same. 

Let liberty, and right, with plumes display'd. 
Clap their glad wings around their guardian's head. 



220 HOR^ LYRIC.E. 

Religion o'er the rest her starry pinions spread. 
Religion guards him ; round the imperial queen 
Place waiting virtues, each of heavenly mien ; 
Learn their bright air, and paint it from his eyes ; 
The just, the bold, the temperate, and the wise 
Dwell in his looks ; majestic, but serene ; 
Sweet, with no fondness ; cheerful, but not vain : 
Bright, without terror ; great, without disdain. 
His soul inspires us, what his lips command. 
And spreads his brave example thro' the land: 

Not so the former reigns ; 

Bend down his ear to each afflicted cry. 
Let beams of grace dart gently from his eye ; 
But the bright treasures of his sacred breast 
Are too divine, too vast to be express 'd : 
Colours must fail where words and numbers faint, 
And leave the hero's heart for thought alone to 
paint. 



Now, muse, pursue the satirist again, 
Wipe off the blots of his envenom'd pen ; 
Hark, how he bids the servile painter draw, 
In monstrous shapes, the patrons of our law ; 
At one slight dash he cancels every name 
From the white rolls of honesty and fame ; 
This scribbling wretch marks all he meets for knave, 
Shoots sudden bolts promiscuous at the base and 
brave, 



HORiE LYRICS. 221 

And with unpardonable malice sheds 
Poison and spite on undistinguisli'd heads. 
Painter, forbear ; or if thy bolder hand 
Dares to attempt the villains of the land, 
Draw first this poet, like some baleful star, 
With silent influence shedding civil war ; 
Or factious trumpeter, whose magic sound 
Calls off the subjects to the hostile ground, 
And scatters hellish feuds the nation round. 
These are the imps of hell, that cursed tribe 
That first create the plague, and then the pain 
describe. 
Draw next above, the great ones of our isle, 
Still from the good distinguishing the vile ; 
Seat them in pomp, in grandeur, and command, 
Peeling the subjects with a greedy hand : 
Paint forth the knaves that have the nation sold. 
And tinge their greedy looks with sordid gold. 
Mark what a selfish faction undermines 
The pious monarch's generous designs, 
Spoil their own native land as vipers do. 
Vipers that tear their mother's bowels through. 
Let great Nassau, beneath a careful crown, 
Mournful in majesty, look gently down, 
Mingling soft pity with an awful frown : 
He grieves to see how long in vain he strove 
To make us bless'd, how vain his labours prove, 
To save the stubborn land he condescends to love. 



222 HOR^ LYRICS. 



TO 

THE DISCONTENTED AND UNQUIET. 

IMITATED PARTLY FROM CASIMIRE, B. iv. OD. 15 

Varia, there 's nothing here that 's free 
From wearisome anxiety : 
And the whole round of mortal joys 
With short possession tires and cloys : 
'Tis a dull circle that we tread, 
Just from the window to the bed, 
We rise to see and to be seen. 
Gaze on the world awhile, and then 
We yawn, and stretch to sleep again. 
But Fancy, that uneasy guest. 
Still holds a lodging in our breast : 
She finds or frames vexations still, 
Herself the greatest plague we feel. 
We take strange pleasure in our pain. 
And make a mountain of a grain. 
Assume the load, and pant and sweat 
Beneath the imaginary weight. 
With our dear selves we live at strife. 
While the most constant scenes of life 
From peevish humours are not free ; 
Still we affect variety : 



HOR-^. LYRICS. 223 

Rather than pass an easy day, 
We fret and chide the hours away, 
Grow weary of the circling sun, 
And vex that he should ever run 
The same old track, and still, and still 
Rise red behind yon eastern hill. 
And chides the moon that darts her light 
Through the same casement every night. 

We shift our chambers, and our homes. 
To dwell where trouble never comes ; 
Sylvia has left the city crowd, 
Against the court exclaims aloud. 
Flies to the woods ; a hermit saint ! 
She loathes her patches, pins, and paint. 
Dear diamonds from her neck are torn : 
But humour, that eternal thorn, 
Sticks in her heart : she 's hurried still, 
'Twixt her wild passions and her w^ill : 
Haunted and hagg'd where'er she roves. 
By purling streams and silent groves, 
Or with her furies or her loves. 

Then our own native land we hate, 
Too cold, too windy, or too wet ; 
Change the thick climate and repair 
To France or Italy for air ; 
In vain we change, in vain we fly ; 
Go, Sylvia, mount the whirling sky. 
Or ride upon the feather'd wdnd 
In vain ; if this diseased mind 
Clings fast, and still sits close behind. 



224 HOKiE LYRICS. 

Faithful disease, that never fails 
Attendance at her lady's side, 
Over the desert or the tide, 
On rolling wheels, or flying sails. 

Happy the soul that virtue shows 
To fix the place of her repose, 
Needless to move ; for she can dwell 
In her old grandsire's hall as well. 
Virtue that never loves to roam. 
But sweetly hides herself at home. 
And easy on a native throne 
Of humble turf sits gently down. 

Yet should tumultuous storms arise. 
And mingle earth, and seas, and skies, 
Should the waves swell, and make her roll 
Across the line, or near the pole, 
Still she 's at peace ; for well she knows 
To launch the stream that duty shows. 
And makes her home where'er she goes. 
Bear her, ye seas, upon your breast, 
Or waft her, winds, from east to west 
On the soft air; she cannot find 
A couch so easy as her mind. 
Nor breathe a climate half so kind. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 225 



TO JOHN HARTOPP, ESQ. 

AFTERWARDS SIR JOHN HARTOPP, BART. 
CASIMIRE, BOOK I. ODE 4, IMITATED. 

" Vive juciindffi metuens juventse," &c. 

Live, my dear Hartopp, live to-day, 
Nor let the sun look down and say, 

" Inglorious here he lies ; " 
Shake off your ease, and send your name 
To immortality and fame, 

By every hour that flies. 

Youth 's a soft scene, but trust her not ; 
Her airy minutes, swift as thought. 

Slide off the slippery sphere ; 
Moons with their months make hasty rounds, 
The sun has pass'd his vernal bounds, 

And whirls about the year. 

Let folly dress in green and red. 
And gird her waist with flowing gold. 
Knit blushing roses round her head, 
Alas ! the gaudy colours fade, 
The garment waxes old. 
15 



226 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Hartopp, mark the withering rose, 
And the pale gold how dim it shows ! 

Bright and lasting bliss below 

Is all romance and dream ; 
Only the joys celestial flow 

In an eternal stream. 
The pleasures that the smiling day 

With large right hand bestows, 
Falsely her left conveys away, 

And shuffles in our woes. 
So have I seen a mother play. 

And cheat her silly child, 
She gave and took a toy away. 

The infant cried and smil'd. 

Airy chance, and iron fate, 
Hurry and vex our mortal state. 
And all the race of ills create ; 
Now fiery joy, now sullen grief. 
Commands the reins of human life, 

The wheels impetuous roll ; 
The harness'd hours and minutes strive, 
And days with stretching pinions drive 

Down fiercely on the goal. 

Not half so fast the galley flies 

O'er the Venetian sea. 
When sails and oars, and labouring skies. 

Contend to make her way. 



HORiE LYRICS. 227 



Swift wings for all the flying hours 
The God of time prepares, 

The rest lie still yet in their nest 
And grow for future years. 



HAPPY SOLITUDE. 

TO THOMAS GUNSTON, ESQ. 

CASIMIRE, BOOK IV. ODE 12, IMITATED. 

" Quid me latentum," &c. 

The noisy world complains of me 
That I should shun their sight, and flee 
Visits, and crowds, and company. 
Gunston, the lark dwells in her nest 

Till she ascend the skies ; 
And in my closet I could rest 

Till to the heavens I rise. 
Yet they will urge, " This private life 
" Can never make you bless'd, 
" And twenty doors are still at strife 

" To engage you for a guest." 
Friend, should the towers of Windsor or Whitehall 
Spread open their inviting gates 
To make my entertainment gay ; 



228 HOR^ LYRICiE. 

I would obey the royal call, 

But short should be my stay. 
Since a diviner service waits 
To employ my hours at home, and better fill the 
day. 

When I within myself retreat, 
I shut my doors against the great ; 
My busy eyeballs inward roll. 
And there with large survey I see 
All the wide theatre of me, 

And view the various scenes of my retiring soul ; 

There I walk o'er the mazes I have trod, 

While hope and fear are in a doubtful strife, 
Whether this opera of life 

Be acted well, to gain the plaudit of my God. 

There 's a day hastening ('tis an awful day !) 
When the great sovereign shall at large review 

All that we speak, and all we do, 
The several parts we act on this wide stage of 
clay : 
These he approves, and those he blames. 
And crowns perhaps a porter, and a prince he 

damns. 
O if the Judge from his tremendous seat 
Shall not condemn what I have done, 
I shall be happy, though unknown. 
Nor need the gazing rabble, nor the shouting 
street. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 229 

I hate the glory, friend, that springs 
From vulgar breath and empty sound ; 
Fame mounts her upward with a flattering gale 

Upon her airy wings, 
Till envy shoots and fame receives the wound: 
Then her flagging pinions fail, 
Down glory falls, and strikes the ground. 
And breaks her batter'd limbs, 
Rather let me be quite conceal'd from fame ; 
How happy I should lie 
In sweet obscurity, 
Nor the loud world pronounce my little name ! 
Here I could live and die alone ; 
Or if society be due 
To keep our taste of pleasure new, 
Gunston, I'd live and die with you. 
For both our souls are one. 

Here we could sit and pass the hour, 
And pity kingdoms and their kings. 
And smile at all their shining things, 
Their toys of state and images of power. 
Virtue should dwell within our seat. 
Virtue alone could make it sweet, 
Nor is herself secure, but in a close retreat. 
While she withdraws from public praise, 
Envy perhaps would cease to rail. 
Envy itself may innocently gaze 
At beauty in a veil : 
But if she once advance to light. 



230 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Her charms are lost in envy's sight, 
And virtue stands the mark of universal spite. 



THE DISDAIN. 

TO JOHN HARTOPP, ESQ. 

AFTERWARDS SIR JOHN HARTOPP, BART. 

Hartopp, I love the soul that dares 
Tread the temptations of his years 

Beneath his youthful feet: 
Fleetwood and all thy heavenly line 
Look through the stars, and smile divine 

Upon an heir so great. 
Young Hartopp knows this noble theme. 
That the wild scenes of busy life, 
The noise, the amusements, and the strife, 
Are but the visions of the night, 
Gay phantoms of delusive light, 

Or a vexatious dream. 

Flesh is the vilest and the least 

Ingredient of our frame : 
We 're born to live above the beast, 

Or quit the manly name. 
Pleasures of sense we leave for boys ; 



HOR^ LYRICS. 231 



Be shining dust the miser's food ; 
Let fancy feed on fame and noise, 
Souls must pursue diviner joys, 
And seize the immortal erood. 



TO MITIO, MY FRIEND. 

AN EPISTLE. 

Forgive me, Mitio, that there should be any mortifying 
lines in the following poems inscribed to you, so soon after 
your entrance into that state which was designed for the com- 
pletest happiness on earth; but you will quickly discover, 
^that the muse in the first poem only represents the shades 
and dark colors that melancholy throws upon love, and the 
social life. In the second, perhaps she indulges her own 
bright ideas a little. Yet if the accounts are but well ba- 
lanced at last, and things set in a due light, I hope there is 
no ground for censure. Here you will find an attempt made 
to talk of one of the most important concerns of human na- 
ture in verse, and that with a solemnity becoming the argu- 
ment. I have banished grimace and ridicule, that persons of 
the most serious character may read without offence. What 
was written several years ago to yourself, is now permitted 
to entertain the world; but you may assume it to yourself 
as a private entertainment still, while you lie concealed be- 
hind a feigned name. 



THE MOURNING-PIECE. 

Life 's a long tragedy : this globe the stage, 
Well fix'd and well adorn'd with strong machine^ 



232 HORiE LYRICS. 

Gay fields, and skies, and seas : the actors many : 
The plot immense : a flight of demons sit 
On every sailing cloud with fatal purpose ; 
And shoot across the scenes ten thousand arrows 
Perpetual and unseen, headed with pain, 
With sorrow, infamy, disease, and death. 
The pointed plagues fly silent through the air, 
Nor twangs the bow, yet sure and deep the wound. 

Dianthe acts her little part alone. 
Nor wishes an associate. Lo ! she glides 
Single through all the storm, and more secure ; 
Less are her dangers, and her breast receives 
The fewest darts. " But, O my lov'd Marilla, 
" My sister, once my friend (Dianthe cries) 
" How much art thou expos'd ! Thy growing soul 
" Doubled in wedlock, multiplied in children, 
" Stands but the broader mark for all the mischiefs 
" That rove promiscuous o'er the mortal stage : 
" Children, those dear young hmbs, those tenderest 

pieces 
" Of your own flesh, those little other selves, 
" How they dilate the heart to wide dimensions, 
" And soften every fibre to improve 
" The mother's sad capacity of pain ! 
" I mourn Fidelio too ; though heaven has chose 
" A favourite mate for him, of all her sex 
" The pride and flower : how blest the lovely pair, 
" Beyond expression, if well-mingled loves 
" And woes well mingled could improve our bliss ! 



HOR^ LYRICS. 233 

" Amidst the rugged cares of life, behold 

" The father and the husband ; flattering names, 

" That spread his title, and enlarge his share 

" Of common wretchedness. He fondly hopes 

" To multiply his joys, but every hour 

'' Renews the disappointment and the smart. 

" There 's not a wound afflicts the meanest joint 

" Of his fair partner, or her infant train, 

" (Sweet babes !) but pierces to his inmost soul 

" Strange is thy power, love ! what numerous 

veins, 
" And arteries, and arms, and hands, and eyes, 
" Are hnk'd and fasten'd to a lover's heart, 
" By strong but secret strings ! With vain attempt 
••' We put the Stoic on ; in vain we try 
" To break the ties of nature and of blood ; 
" Those hidden threads maintain the dear com- 
munion 
" Inviolably firm ; their thrilling motions 
" Reciprocal give endless sympathy 
" In all the bitters and the sweets of life. 
" Thrice happy man, if pleasure only knew 
" These avenues of love to reach our souls, 
" And pain had never found them ! " 

Thus sang the tuneful maid, fearful to try 
The bold experiment. Oft Daphnis came, 
And oft Narcissus, rivals of her heart, 
Luring her eyes with trifles dipp'd in gold. 
And the gay silken bondage. Firm she stood, 
And bold repuls'd the bright temptation still. 



234 HOR^ LYRICiE. 

Nor put the chains on ; dangerous to try, 
And hard to be dissolv'd. Yet rising tears 
Sat on her eyelids, while her numbers flow'd 
Harmonious sorrow ; and the pitying drops 
Stole down her cheeks, to mourn the hapless state 
Of mortal love. Love, thou best blessing sent 
To soften life, and make our iron cares 
Easy : But thy own cares of softer kind 
Give sharper wounds: they lodge too near the 

heart, 
Beat, like the pulse, perpetual, and create 
A strange uneasy sense, a tempting pain. 

Say, my companion, Mitio, speak sincere, 
(For thou art learned now) what anxious thoughts, 
What kind perplexities tumultuous rise. 
If but the absence of a day divide 
Thee from thy fair beloved ! Vainly smiles 
The cheerful sun, and night with radiant eyes 
Twinkles in vain : the region of thy soul 
Is darkness till thy better star appear. 
Tell me, what toil, what torment to sustain 
The rolling burden of the tedious hours ? 
The tedious hours are ages. Fancy roves 
Restless in fond enquiry, nor believes 
Charissa safe : Charissa, in whose life 
Thy life consists, and in her comfort thine. 
Fear and surmise put on a thousand forms 
Of dear disquietude, and round thine ears 
Whisper ten thousand dangers, endless woes, 
Till thy frame shudders at her fancied death ; 



HORJE LTRICiE. 235 

Then dies my Mitio, and his blood creeps cold 
Thro' ev'rj vein. Speak, does the stranger muse 
Cast happy guesses at the unknown passion, 
Or has she fabled all ? Inform me, friend, 
Are half thy joys sincere ? Thy hopes fulfiU'd 
Or frustrate ? Here commit thy secret griefs 
To faithful ears, and be they buried here 
In friendship and oblivion ; lest they spoil 
Thy new-born pleasures with distasteful gall. 
Nor let thine eye too greedily drink in 
The frightful prospect, w^hen untimely death 
Shall make wild inroads on a parent's heart, 
And his dear offspring to the cruel grave 
Are dragg'd in sad succession, while his soul 
Is torn away piecemeal : thus dies the wretch 
A various death, and frequent, ere he quit 
The theatre, and make his exit final. 

But if his dearest half, his faithful mate 
Survive, and in the sweetest saddest airs 
Of love and grief, approacb with trembling hand 
To close his swimming eyes, what double pangs. 
What racks, what twinges rend his heartstrings off 
From the fair bosom of that fellow-dove 
He leaves behind to mourn ? What jealous cares 
Hang on his parting soul, to think his love 
Expos'd to wild oppression, and the herd 
Of savage men ? so parts the dying turtle 
With sobbing accents, with such sad regret. 
Leaves his kind feather'd mate : the widow bird 
Wanders in lonesome shades, forgeXs her food, 



236 HOR^ LYRIC.E. 

Forgets her life ; or falls a speedier prey 
To talon'd falcons, and the crooked beak 
Of hawks, athirst for blood. ..... 



THE SECOND PAET: 

OR, THE BRIGHT VISION. 

Thus far the muse, in unaccustom'd mood, 

And strains unpleasing to a lover's ear 

Indulg'd a gloom of thought ; and thus she sang 

Partial ; for melancholy's hateful form 

Stood by in sable robe : the pensive muse 

Survey'd the darksome scenes of life, and sought 

Some bright relieving glimpse, some cordial ray 

In the fair world of love ; but while she gaz'd 

Delightful on the state of twinborn souls 

United, bless'd, the cruel shade applied 

A dark long tube, and a false tinctur'd glass 

Deceitful ; blending love and life at once 

In darkness, chaos, and the common mass 

Of misery : how Urania feels the cheat, 

And breaks the hated optic in disdain. 

Swift vanishes the sullen form, and lo 

The scene shines bright with bliss ; behold the place 

Where mischiefs never fly, cares never come 

With wrinkled brow, nor anguish, nor disease, 



HORiE LYRICS. 237 

Nor malice forky-tongued. On this dear spot, 
Mitio, my love would fix and plant thy station 
To act thy part of life, serene and bless'd 
With the fair consort fitted to thy heart. 
Sure 'tis a vision of that happy grove 
"Where the first authors of our mournful race 
Liv'd in sweet partnership ! one hour they liv'd, 
But chang'd the tasted bliss (imprudent pair !) 
For sin, and shame, and this waste wilderness 
Of briers, and nine hundred years of pain. 
The wishing muse new dresses the fair garden 
Amid this desert world, with budding bliss 
And evergreens., and balms, and flowery beauties 
Without one dangerous tree : there heavenly dews 
Nightly descending shall impearl the grass 
And verdant herbage ; drops of fragrancy 
Sit trembling on the spires ; the spicy vapours 
Rise with the dawn, and through the air diffused 
Salute your waking senses with perfume : 
While vital fruits, with their ambrosial juice. 
Renew life's purple flood and fountain, pure 
From vicious taint ; and with your innocence 
Immortalize the structure of your clay. 
On this new paradise the cloudless skies 
Shall smile perpetual, while the lamp of day 
(With flames unsullied as the fabled torch 
Of Hymen) measures out your golden hours 
Along his azure road. The nuptial moon. 
In milder rays serene, should nightly rise 
Full orb'd (if heaven and nature will indulge 



238 HOR^ LYRICiE. 

So fair an emblem) big with silver joys 
And still forget her wane. The feather'd choir, 
Warbling their Maker's praise on early wing, 
Or perch'd on evening bough, shall join your 

worship. 
Join your sweet vespers and the morning song. 

O sacred symphony ! Hark, thro' the grove 
I hear the sound divine ! I 'm all attention. 
All ear, all ecstasy ; unknown delight ! 
And the fair muse proclaims the heaven below. 

Not the seraphic minds of high degree 
Disdain converse with men ; again returning 
I see the ethereal host on downward wing. 
Lo, at the eastern gate young cherubs stand. 
Guardians, commission'd to convey their joys 
To earthly lovers. Go, ye happy pair. 
Go taste their banquet, learn the nobler pleasures 
Supernal, and from brutal dregs refin'd. 
Raphael shall teach thee, friend, exalted thoughts 
And intellectual bliss. 'Twas Raphael taught 
The patriarch of our progeny the affairs 
Of heaven : (So Milton sings, enlighten'd bard ! 
Nor miss'd his eyes, when, in sublimest strain. 
The angel's great narration he repeats 
To Albion's sons, high favour'd.) Thou shalt learn 
Celestial lessons from his awful tongue ; 
And with soft grace and interwoven loves 
(Grateful digression) all his words rehearse 
To thy Charissa's ear, and charm her soul. 
Thus with divine discourse, in shady bowers 



HORJE LYRICS. 239 

Of Eden, our first father entertain'd 
Eve, his sole auditress ; and deep dispute 
With conjugal caresses on her lip 
Solv'd easy, and abstrusest thoughts reveal'd. 

Now the day wears apace, now Mitio comes 
From his bright tutor, and finds out his mate. 
Behold the dear associates seated low 
On humble turf, with rose and myrtle strow'd ; 
But high their conference : how self-suffic'd 
Lives their eternal Maker, girt around 
With glories ; arm'd with thunders ; and his throne 
Mortal access forbids, projecting far 
Splendours unsufferable and radiant death. 
With reverence and abasement deep they fall 
Before his sovereign Majesty, to pay 
Due worship : then his mercy on their souls 
Smiles with a gentler ray, but sovereign still ; 
And leads their meditation and discourse 
Long ages backward, and across the seas 
To Bethlehem of Judah : there the Son, 
The filial Godhead, character express 
Of brightness inexpressible, laid by 
His beamy robes, and made descent to earth ; 
Sprung from the sons of Adam, he became 
A second Father, studious to regain 
Lost paradise for men, and purchase heaven. 

The lovers, with endearment mutual, thus 
Promiscuous talk'd, and questions intricate 
His manly judgment still resolv'd, and still 
Held her attention fixed : she musing sat 



240 HORiE LYRICiE. 

On the sweet mention of incarnate love, 
Till rapture wak'd her voice to softest strains. 
She sang " the infant God ; (mysterious theme !) 
" How vile his birthplace, and his cradle vile ! 
" The ox and ass his mean companions ; there, 
" In habit vile, the shepherds flock around, 
" Saluting the great mother, and adore 
'• Israel's anointed King, the appointed heir 
" Of the creation. How debas'd he lies 
" Beneath his regal state ; for thee, my Mitio, 
" Debas'd in servile form ; but angels stood 
" Ministering round their charge with folded wings 
" Obsequious, tho' unseen ; while lightsome hours 
" Fulfill'd the day, and the gray evening rose. 
" Then the fair guardians hovering o'er his head 
" Wakeful all night, drive the foul spirits far, 
" And with their fanning pinions purge the air 
" From busy phantoms, from infectious damps, 
" And impure taint ; while their ambrosial plumes 
" A dewy slumber on his senses shed. 
" Alternate hymns the heavenly watchers sung 
" Melodious, soothing the surrounding shades, 
" And kept the darkness chaste and holy. Then 
" Midnight was charm'd, and all her gazing eyes 
" Wonder'd to see their mighty Maker sleep. 
" Behold the glooms disperse, the rosy morn 
" Smiles in the east with eyelids op'ning fair, 
" But not so fair as thine ; I could fold thee, 
" My young Almighty, my Creator-Babe, 
" For ever in these arms ! For ever dwell 



HOR^ LYRICS. 241 

" Upon thy lovely form with gazing joy, 

" And every pulse should beat seraphic love ! 

" Around my seat should crowding cherubs come 

" With swift ambition, zealous to attend 

" Their prince, and form a heaven below the sky. 

" Forbear, Charissa, forbear the thought 
" Of female fondness, and forgive the man 
" That interrupts such melting harmony ! " 
Thus Mitio ; and awakes her nobler powers 
To pay just worship to the sacred King, 
Jesus the God ; nor with devotion pure 
Mix the caresses of her softer sex ; 
(Vain blandishment !) " Come, turn thine eyes aside 
" From Bethlehem, and climb up the doleful steep 
'f Of bloody Calvary, where naked skulls 
" Pave the sad road, and fright the traveller. 
" Can my beloved bear to trace the feet 
" Of her Eedeemer, panting up the hill, 
" Hard burden'd ? Can thy heart attend his cross ? 
" Nail'd to the cruel wood, he groans, he dies, 
" For thee he dies. Beneath thy sins and mine 
" (Horrible load !) the sinful Saviour groans, 
"" And in fierce anguish of his soul expires. 
" Adoring angels pry, with bending head, 
" Searching the deep contrivance, and admire 
" This infinite design. Here peace is made 
" 'Twixt God the sovereign, and the rebel man ; 
" Here Satan, overthrown wdth all his hosts, 
" In second ruin, rages and despairs ; 
" Malice itself despairs. The captive prey, 
16 



242 HOR^ LYRICS. 

" Long held in slavery, hopes a sweet release, 

" And Adam's ruin'd offspring shall revive, 

" Thus ransom'd from the greedy jaws of death." 

The fair disciple heard ; her passions move 
Harmonious to the great discourse, and breathe 
Refin'd devotion : while new smiles of love 
Repay her teacher. Both with bended knees 
Read o'er the covenant of eternal life 
Brought down to men : seal'd by the sacred Three 
In heaven ; and seal'd on earth with God's own 

blood. 
Here they unite their names again, and sign 
Those peaceful articles. (Hail, blessed coheirs 
Celestial ! Ye shall grow to manly age. 
And, spite of earth and hell, in season due 
Possess the fair inheritance above.) 
With joyous admiration they survey 
The gospel treasures, infinite, unseen 
By mortal eye, by mortal ear unheard. 
And unconceiv'd by thought : Riches divine 
And honours which the almighty Father, God, 
Pour'd with immense profusion on his Son, 
High treasurer of heaven. The Son bestows 
The life, the love, the blessing, and the joy 
On bankrupt mortals, who believe and love 
His name. " Then, my Charissa, all is thine." 
" And thine, my Mitio," the fair saint replies. 
" Life, death, the world below, and worlds on high, 
" And place, and time, are our's ; and things to 
come, 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 243 

"And past, and present; for our interest stands 
" Firm in our mystic Head, the title sure. 
" 'Tis for our health and sweet refreshment (while 
" We sojourn strangers here) the fruitful earth 
" Bears plenteous ; and revolving seasons still 
" Dress her vast globe in various ornament. 
" For us this cheerful sun and cheerful light 
" Diurnal shine. This blue expanse of sky ^ 
" Hangs a rich canopy above our heads, 
" Covering our slumbers all with starry gold 
" Inwrought, when night alternates her return. 
" For us time wears his wings out : Nature keeps 
" Her wheels in motion : and her fabric stands. 
" Glories beyond our ken of mortal sight 
" Are now preparing, and a mansion fair 
" Awaits us, where the saints unbodied live. 
" Spirits, releas'd from clay, and purg'd from sin: 
" Thither our hearts, with most incessant wish, 
" Panting aspire ; when shall that dearest hour 
" Shine and release us hence, and bear us high, 
♦' Bear us at once unsever'd to our better home ? " 

bless'd connubial state ! happy pair. 
Envied by yet unsociated souls. 
Who seek their faithful twins ! Your pleasures rise 
Sweet as the morn, advancing as the day. 
Fervent as glorious noon, serenely calm 
As summer evenings. The vile sons of earth, 
Grovelling in dust, with all their noisy jars, 
Restless, shall interrupt your joys no more 
Than barking animals affright the moon 



244 noR^ LYRICS. 

Sublime, and riding in her midnight way. 
Friendship and love shall undistinguish'd reign 
O'er all your passions, with unrivall'd sway, 
Mutual and everlasting : Friendship knows 
No property in good, but all things common 
That each possesses, as the light or air 
In which we breathe and live ; there 's not one 

thought 
Can lurk in close reserve, no barriers fix'd, 
But every passage open as the day 
To one another's breast, and inmost mind. 
Thus by communion your delight shall grow, 
Thus streams of mingled bliss swell higher as they 

flow. 
Thus angels mix their flames and more divinely 

grow. 



THE THIRD PART: 

OR, THE ACCOUNT BALANCED. 

Should sovereign love before me stand, 
With all his train of pomp and state, 
And bid the daring muse relate 

His comforts and his cares ; 
Mitio, I would not ask the sand 
For metaphors to express their weight, 
Nor borrow numbers from the stars. 



HOR^ LYEIC^. 245 

Thy cares and comforts, sovereign love, 

Vastly outweigh the sand below, 

And to a larger audit grow 

Than all the stars above. 

Thy mighty losses and thy gains 

Are their own mutual measures ; 
Only the man that knows thy pains 

Can reckon up thy pleasures. 

Say, Damon, say, how bright the scene, 

Damon is half-divinely bless'd, 
Leaning his head on his Florella's breast. 
Without a jealous thought, or busy care between : 

Then the sweet passions mix and share : 

Florella tells thee all her heart. 
Nor can thy soul's remotest part 
Conceal a thought or Avisli from the beloved fair. 

Say, what a pitch thy pleasures fly, 
When friendship all-sincere, grows up to ecstasy. 
Nor self contracts the bliss, nor vice pollutes the joy, 

While thy dear offspring round thee sit. 
Or, sporting innocently at thy feet. 
Thy kindest thoughts engage : 

Those little images of thee. 

What pretty toys of youth they be. 
And growing props of age ! 

But short is earthly bliss ! The changing wind 
Blows from the sickly south, and brings 
Malignant fevers on its sultry wings. 



246 HORiE LYRICS. 

Relentless death sits close behind : 

Now gasping infants, and a wife in tears, 

With piercing groans salute his ears. 
Through every vein the thrilling torments roll ; 

While sweet and bitter are at strife 

In those dear miseries of life, 
Those tenderest pieces of his bleeding soul. 

The pleasing sense of love awhile 
Mix'd with the heartache may the pain beguile. 

And make a feeble fight : 
Till sorrows, like a gloomy deluge, rise. 

Then every smiling passion dies. 

And hope alone, with wakeful eyes, [light. 
Darkling and solitary waits, the slow-returning 

Here then let my ambition rest. 
May I be moderately bless'd 
When I the laws of love obey ; 
Let but my pleasure and my pain 
In equal balance ever reign. 
Or mount by turns and sink again. 
And share just measures of alternate sway. 
So Damon lives, and ne'er complains ; 
Scarce can we hope diviner scenes 

On this dull stage of clay : 
The tribes beneath the northern Bear 
Submit to darkness half the year, 

Since half the year is day. 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 247 



AN EPIGRAM OF MARTIAL TO CIRINIUS. 

" Sic tua, Cirini, promas Epigrammata vulgo 
" Ut mecum possis," &c. 

INSCRIBED TO MR. JOSIAH HORTE, LORD BISHOP 
OF KILMORe/ IN IRELAND. 

So smooth your numbers, friend, your verse so 

sweet. 
So sharp the jest, and yet the turn so neat. 
That with her Martial Rome would place Cirine, 
Rome would prefer your sense and thought to mine. 
Yet modest you decline the public stage. 
To fix your friend alone amidst the applauding age. 
So Maro did ; the mighty Maro sings 
In vast heroic notes, of vast heroic things. 
And leaves the ode, to dance upon his Flaccus' 

strings. 
He scorn'd to daunt the dear Horatian lyre, 
Though his brave genius flash'd Pindaric fire. 
And at his will could silence all the lyric choir. 
So to his Yarius he resign'd the praise 
Of the proud buskin and the tragic bays, 

1 Afterwards Archbishop of Tuam. 



248 HORJi LYRlC^. 

When he could thunder with a loftier vein 
And sing of gods and heroes in a bolder strain. 

A handsome treat, a piece of gold, or so. 
And compliments, will every friend bestow ; 
Rarely a Virgil, a Cirine, we meet, 
Who lays his laurels at inferior feet. 
And yields the tenderest point of honour, wit. 



AN EPIGRAM, 

ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF GLOUCES- 
TER, JUST AFTER MR. DRYDEN. 

Dryden is dead ; Dry den alone could sing 
The full-grown glories of a future king .... 
Now Glo'ster dies ! . . . . Thus lesser heroes live 
By that immortal breath that poets give ; 
And scarce revive the muse : But William stands, 
Nor asks his honours from the poet's hands. 
William shall shine without a Dryden's praise, 
His laurels are not grafted on the bays. 



HOR^E LYRICE. 249 



TO MRS. SINGER, 

AFTERWARDS MRS. ROWE. 

ON THE SIGHT OF SOME OF HER DIVINE 
POEMS, NEVER PRINTED. 

On the fair banks of gentle Thames 
I tun'd my harp ; nor did celestial themes 
Refuse to dance upon my strings : 
There beneath the evening sky 
I sung my cares asleep, and raised my wishes high 
To everlasting things. 
Sudden from Albion's western coast 
Harmonious notes come gliding by. 
The neighb'ring shepherds knew the silver sound ; 
" 'Tis Philomela's voice," the neighbouring shep- 
herds cry ; 
At once my strings all silent lie. 
At once my fainting muse was lost, 
In the superior sweetness drown'd. 
In vain I bid my tuneful powers unite ; 

My soul retir'd and left my tongue, 
I was all ear, and Philomela's song 

Was all divine delight. * 



250 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Now be my harp for ever dumb, 
My muse attempt no more. 'Twas long ago 

I bid adieu to mortal things, 

To Gredan tales, and wars of Rome, 
'Twas long ago I broke all but the immortal strings : 
Now those immortal strings have no employ. 

Since a fair angel dwells below, 
To tune the notes of heaven and propagate the joy. 

Let all my powers, with awe profound. 
While Philomela sings, 

Attend the rapture of the sound, 
And my devotion rise on her seraphic wings. 



STANZAS 

TO LADY SUNDERLAND, AT TUNBRIDGE-TVELLS. 

Fair nymph, ascend to beauty's throne. 
And rule that radiant world alone : 
Let favourites take thy lower sphere. 
Not monarchs are thy rivals here. 

The court of beauty, built sublime. 
Defies all powers but thine and time : 
Envy, that clouds the hero's sky. 
Aims but in vain her flight so high. 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 251 

Not Blenheim's field, nor Ister's flood, 
Nor standards dy'd in Gallic blood. 
Torn from the foe, add nobler grace 
To Churchill's house, than Spencer's face. 

The warlike thunder of his arms 
Is more commanding than her charms ; 
His lightning strikes with less surprise 
Than sudden glances from her eyes. 

His captives feel their limbs confin'd 
In iron ; she enslaves the mind : 
We follow with a pleasing pain. 
And bless the conqueror and the chain. 

The muse that dares in numbers do 
What paint and pencil never knew. 
Faints at her presence in despair, 
And owns the inimitable fair. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 

BOOK m. 
SACEED TO THE MEMOEY OF THE DEAD. 



AN EPITAPH 

ON KING WILLIAM III. OF GLORIOUS MEMORY 
WHO DIED, MARCH THE EIGHTH, 1701. 

Beneath these honours of a tomb, 
Greatness in humble ruin lies ; 
(How earth confines in narrow room 
What heroes leave beneath the skies !) 

Preserve, O venerable pile. 
Inviolate thy sacred trust ; 
To thy cold arms the British isle, 
Weeping, commits her richest dust. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 253 

Ye gentlest ministers of fate 
Attend the monarch as he hes, 
And bid the softest slumbers wait 
With silken cords to bind his eyes. 

Rest his dear sword beneath his head ; 
Round him his faithful arms shall stand : 
Fix his bright ensigns on his bed, 
The guards and honours of our land. 

Ye sister arts of paint and verse, 
Place Albion fainting by his side, 
Her groans arising o'er the hearse. 
And Belgia sinking when he died. 

High o'er the grave religion set 

In solemn gold ; pronounce the ground 

Sacred to bar unhallow'd feet. 

And plant her guardian virtues round. 

Fair liberty, in sables drest, 
Write his lov'd name upon his urn : 
" William, the scourge of tyrants past, 
" And awe of princes yet unborn." 

Sweet peace, his sacred relics keep. 
With olives blooming round her head. 
And stretch her wings across the deep 
To bless the nations with the shade. 



254 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Stand on the pile, immortal fame, 
Broad stars adorn thy brightest robe. 
Thy thousand voices sound his name 
In silver accents round the globe. 

Flattery shall faint beneath the spund, 
While hoary truth inspires the song ; 
Envy grow pale and bite the ground, 
And slander gnaw her forky tongue. 

Night and the grave, remove your gloom ; 
Darkness becomes the vulgar dead ; 
But glory bids the royal tomb 
Disdain the horrors of a shade. 

Glory with all her lamps shall burn, 
And watch the warrior's sleeping clay, 
Till the last trumpet rouse his urn 
To aid the triumphs of the day. 



HOR^ LYRICJE. 255 



ON THE 

SUDDEN DEATH OF MRS. MARY PEACOCK. 

AN ELEGIAC SONG, 

SENT IN A LETTER OF CONDOLENCE, TO MK. N. P. MER- 
CHANT, AT AMSTERDAJSr. 

Hark ! she bids all her friends adieu ; 
Some angel calls her to the spheres ; 
Our eyes the radiant saint pursue 
Through liquid telescopes of tears. 

Farewell, bright soul, a short farewell, 
Till we shall meet again above. 
In the sweet groves where pleasures dwell. 
And trees of life bear fruits of love. 

There glory sits on every face. 
There friendship smiles in every eye. 
There shall our tongues relate the grace 
That led us homeward to the sky. 

O'er all the names of Christ our king 
Shall our harmonious voices rove, 
Our harps shall sound from every string 
The wonders of his bleeding love. 



256 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Come, sovereign Lord, dear Saviour come, 
Remove these separating days. 
Send thy bright wheels to fetch us home ; 
That golden hour, how long it stays ! 

How long must we lie lingering here. 
While saints around us take their flight? 
Smiling, they quit this dusky sphere. 
And mount the hills of heavenly light. 

Sweet soul, we leave thee to thy rest. 
Enjoy the Jesus and thy God, 
Till we, from bands of clay releas'd. 
Spring out, and climb the shining road. 

While the dear dust she leaves behind 
Sleeps in thy bosom, sacred tomb ! 
Soft be her bed, her slumbers kind. 
And all her dreams of joy to come. 



TO THE KEY. MR. JOHN SHOWER. 

ON THE DEATH OF HIS DAUGHTER, MRS. ANNE 
VTARNER. 

Eeveeend and dear Sie, 

HoAv great soever was my sense of your loss, yet I did not think 
myself fit to offer any lines of comfort : your own meditations 
can furnish you with many a delightful trath in the midst of 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 257 

so heavy a sorrow ; for the covenant of grace has brightness 
enough in it to gild the most gloomy providence ; and to that 
sweet covenant your soul is no stranger. My own thoughts 
were much impressed with the tidings of your daughter's 
death ; and though I made many a reflection on the vanity of 
mankind in its best estate, yet 1 must acknowledge that my 
temper leads me most to the pleasant scenes of heaven, and 
that future world of blessedness. When I recollect the me- 
mory of my friends that are dead, I frequently rove into the 
world of spirits, and search them out there: Thus I endea- 
voured to trace Mrs. Warner; and these thoughts crowding 
fast upon me, I set them down for my own entertainment. 
The verse breaks off abruptly, because I had no design to 
write a finished elegy ; and besides, when I was fallen upon 
the dark side of death, I had no mind to tarry there. If the 
lines I have written be so happy as to entertain you a little, 
and divert your grief, the time spent in composing them shall 
not be reckoned among my lost hours, and the review will 
be more pleasing to, Sir, 

Your affectionate humble servant, I. W. 



. AN ELEGIAC THOUGHT 

ON MRS. ANNE WARNER, 

WHO DIED OF THE SMALLPOX, DECEMBER 18, 1707, AT ONE 
o'clock in the MOENING; a few days after THE 
BIRTH AND DEATH OF HER FIRST CHILD. - 

Awake, my muse, range the wide world of souls, 
And seek Vernera fled : With upward aim 
Direct thy wdng ; for she was born from heaven, 
Fulfill'd her visit, and return'd on high. 

The midnight watch of angels that patrol 
The British sky, have notic'd her ascent 
17 



258 IIOR^ LYRICS. 

Near the meridian star : pursue the track 
To the bright confines of immortal day 
And paradise, her home. Say, my Urania, 
(For nothing 'scapes thy search, nor canst thou 

miss 
So fair a spirit) say, beneath what shade 
Of amaranth, or cheerful evergreen. 
She sits, recounting to her kindred-minds, 
Angelic or humane, her mortal toil 
And travels through this howling wilderness : 
By what divine protections she escaped 
Those deadly snares when youth and Satan leagu'd 
In combination to assail her virtue ; 
(Snares set to murder souls) but heaven secur'd 
The favourite nymph, and taught her victory. 

Or does she seek, or has she found her babe 
Amongst the infant-nation of the blest, 
And clasp'd it to her soul, to satiate there 
The young maternal passion, and absolve 
The unfulfill'd embrace ? Thrice happy child ! 
That saw the light, and turn'd its eyes aside 
From our dim regions to the eternal Sun, 
And led the parent's way to glory ! There 
Thou art for ever her's, with powers enlarg'd 
For love reciprocal and sweet converse. 

Behold her ancestors (a pious race) 
Rang'd in fair order, at her sight, rejoice. 
And sing her welcome. She along their seats 
Gliding, salutes them all with honours due, 
Such as are paid in heaven : And last she finds 



HOR^ LYRICS. 259 

A mansion fasliion'd of distinguish'd light, 
But vacant : " This" (with sure presage, she cries) 
'' Awaits my father ; when will he arrive ? 
"• How long, alas, how long ! " (Then calls her mate) 
" Die, thou dear partner of my mortal cares, 
" Die, and partake my bliss ; we are for ever one." 
Ah me! where roves my fancy! What kind 
dreams 
Crowd with sweet violence on my waking mind ! 
Perhaps illusions^ all ! Inform me, muse. 
Chooses she rather to retire apart 
To recollect her dissipated powers, 
And call her thoughts her own : so lately freed 
From earth's vain scenes, gay visits, gratulations, 
From Hymen's hurrying and tumultuous joys, 
And fears and pangs, fierce pangs that wrought 

her death. 
Tell me on what sublimer theme she dwells 
In contemplation, with unerring clue 
Infinite truth pursuing. (When, my soul, 
O when shall thy release from cumb'rous flesh 
Pass the great seal of heaven ? What happy hour 
Shall give thy thoughts a loose to soar and trace 
The intellectual world ? Divine delight ! 
Venera's lov'd employ !) Perhaps she sings. 
To some new golden harp, the almighty deeds. 
The names, the honours of her Saviour- God, 
His cross, his grave, his victory, and his crown : 
could I imitate the exalted notes. 
And mortal ears could bear them ! — 



2t)0 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Or lies she now before the eternal throne 
Prostrate in humble form, with deep devotion 
Overwhelm'd, and self-abasement, at the sight 
Of the uncover'd Godhead, face to face ? 
Seraphic crowns pay homage at his feet. 
And hers amongst them not of dimmer ore, 
Nor set with meaner gems : But vain ambition, 
And emulation vain, and fond conceit, 
And pride, for ever banish'd, flies the place, 
Curst pride, the dress of hell. ,Tell me Urania, 
How her joys heighten, and her golden hours 
Circle in love. O stamp upon my soul 
Some blissful image of the fair deceased 
To call my passions and my eyes aside 
From the dear breathless clay. Distressing sight 
I look, and mourn, and gaze with greedy view 
Of melancholy fondness : Tears bedewing 
That form so late desir'd, so late belov'd, 
Now loathsome and unlovely. Base disease, 
' That leagu'd with nature's sharpest pains and 

spoil'd 
So sweet a structure ! The impoisoning taint 
O'erspreads the building wrought with skill divine, 
And ruins the rich temple to the dust. 

Was this the countenance, where the world ad- 

mir'd 
Features of wit and virtue ? This the face 
Where love triumph'd ? and beauty on these 

cheeks, 
As on a throne beneath her radiant eyes 



HOR^ LYRICyE. 261 

Was seated to advantage ; mild, serene, 
Reflecting rosy light ? So sits the sun 
(Fair eye of heaven !) upon a crimson cloud 
Near the horizon, and with gentle ray 
Smiles lovely round the sky, till rising fogs. 
Portending night, with foul and heavy wing. 
Involve the golden star, and sink him down 
Oppress'd with darkness 



ON THE DEATH 

OF AN AGED AND HONOURED RELATIVE. 

I KNOW the kindred mind. 'Tis she, 'tis she ; 

Among the heavenly forms I see 

The kindred-mind from fleshy bondage free ; 

O how unlike the thing was lately seen 
Groaning and panting on the bed, 
With ghastly air, and languish'd head ; 
Life on this side, there the dead, 

While the delaying flesh lay shivering between. 

Long did the earthy house restrain 

In toilsome slavery that ethereal guest ; 

Prison'd her round in walls of pain, 



262 HOR^ LYRICS. 

And twisted cramps and aclies with her chain ; 
Till, by the weight of numerous days opprest, 

The earthy house began to reel, 
The pillars trembled, and the building fell ; 
The captive soul became her own again : 
Tir'd with the sorrows and the cares, 

A tedious train of fourscore years, 

The prisoner smil'd to be releas'd, 
She felt her fetters loose, and mounted to her rest. 

Gaze on, my soul, and let a perfect view 

Paint her idea all anew ; 
Kase out those melancholy shapes of woe 
That hang around thy memory, and becloud it so. 
Come, fancy, come, with essences refin'd. 

With youthful green, and spotless white ; 
Deep be the tincture, and the colors bright 
To express the beauties of a n aked mind. 

Provide no glooms to form a shade ; 
All things above of varied light are made, 
Nor can the heavenly piece require a mortal aid. 

But if the features, too divine, 

Beyond the power of fancy shine, 
Conceal the inimitable strokes behind a graceful 
shrine. 

Describe the saint from head to feet. 

Make all the lines in just proportion meet: 
But let her posture be 

Filling a chair of high degree ; 
Observe how near it stands to the almighty seat. 



HORiE LYRICS. 263 

Paint the new graces of her eyes ; 
Fresh in her looks let sprightly youth arise, 
And joys unknown below the skies. 
Virtue that lives conceal'd below. 

And to the breast confin'd, 
Sits here triumphant on the brow, 
And breaks with radiant glories through 
The features of the mind. 
Express her passion still the same. 

But more divinely sweet ; 
Love has an everlasting tlame, 

And makes the work complete. 
The painter muse, with glancing eye, 
Observ'd a manly spirit nigh,^ 

That death had long disjoin'd : 
" In the fair tablet they shall stand 
" United by a happier band : " 
She said, and fix'd her sight, and drew the manly 

mind. 
Recount the years, my song (a mournful round !) 
Since he was seen on earth no more : 
He fought in lower seas and drown'd ; 
But victory and peace he found 
On the superior shore. 
There now his tuneful breath in sacred sonsjs 



1 My grandfather, Mr. Thomas Watts, had such acquaint- 
ance with the mathematics, painting, music, poesy, &c. as 
gave him considerable esteem among his contemporaries. He 
was commander of a ship of war, 1656, and by blowing up of 
the ship in the Dutch war he was drowned in his youth. 



264 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Employs the European and the Eastern tongues. 

Let the awful truncheon and the flute, 

The pencil and the well-known lute, 
Powerful numbers, charming wit, 

And every art and science meet, 
And bring their laurels to his hand, or lay them 
at his feet. 

'Tis done ! What beams of glory fall 

(Rich varnish of immortal art) 

To gild the bright original ! 
'Tis done. The muse has now perform'd her part. 
Bring down the piece, Urania, from above. 

And let my honour and my love. 
Dress it with chains of gold to hang upon my heart. 



A FUNERAL POEM 

ON THE DEATH OF THOMAS GUNSTON, ESQ. 

presented to the eight hon. lady abney, lady- 
mayoress of london. 

Madam, 

Had I been a common mourner at the funeral of the dear 
gentleman deceased, I should have laboured after more of art 
in the following composition, to supply the defect of nature, 
and to feign a sorrow; but the uncommon condescension of 
his friendship to me, the inward esteem I pay his memory, 



noR^ LYRICS. 265 

and the vast and tender sense I have of the loss, make all the 
methods of art needless, whilst natural grief supplies more 
than all. 

I had resolved to lament in sighs and silence, and frequently 
checked the too forward muse : but the importunity was not 
to be resisted ; long lines of son-ow flowed in upon me ere I 
was aware, whilst I took many a solitary walk in the garden 
adjoining to his seat at Newington ; nor could I free myself 
from the crowd of melancholy ideas. Your ladyship will 
find, throughout the poem, that the fair and unfinished build- 
ing which he had just raised for himself, gave almost all the 
turns of mourning to my thoughts ; for I pursue no other to- 
pics of elegy than what my passion and my senses lead 
me to. 

The poem roves as my eyes and grief did, from one part 
of the fabric to the other. It rises from the foundation, salutes 
the Avails, the doors, and the windows-; drops a tear upon the 
roof, and climbs the turret, that pleasant retreat, where I pro- 
mised myself many sweet hours of his conversation ; there 
my song wanders amongst the delightful subjects, divine and 
moral, which used to entertain our happy leisure ; and thence 
descends to the fields and the shady walks, where I so often 
enjoyed his pleasing discourse ; my sorrows diffuse themselves 
there without a limit. I had quite forgotten all scheme and 
method of writing, till I correct myself, and rise to the turret 
again, to lament that desolate seat. Now if the critics laugh 
at the folly of the muse for taking too much notice of the 
golden ball, let them consider that the meanest thing that 
belonged to so valuable a person still gave some fresh and dole- 
ful reflections. And I transcribe nature without rule, and re-' 
present friendship in a mourning dress, abandoned to deepest 
sorrow, and with a negligence becoming woe unfeigned. 

Had I designed a complete elegy. Madam, on your dearest 
brother, and intended it for public view, I should have fol- 
lowed the usual forms of poetry, so far at least, as to spend 
some pages in the character and praises of the deceased, and 
thence have taken occasion to call mankind to complain aloud 
of the universal and unspeakable loss. But I wrote merely for 
myself as a friend of the dead, and to ease my full soul by 



266 HOR^ LYRICS. 

breathing out my own complaints. I knew his character and 
virtues so well, that there was no need to mention them while 
I talked only with myself; for the image of them was ever 
present with me, Avhich kept the pain at heart intense and 
lively, and my tears flowing Avith ray verse. 

Perhaps your ladyship will expect some divine thoughts 
and sacred meditations, mingled with a subject so solemn as 
this is. Had I formed a design of offering it to your hands, I 
had composed a more Christian poem ; but it was grief purely 
natural for a death so surprising that drew all the strokes of 
it, and therefore my reflections are chiefly of a moral strain. 
Such as it is, your ladyship requires a copy of it; biit let it 
not touch your soul too tenderly, nor renew your own mourn- 
ings. Keceive it, Madam, as an offering of love and tears at 
the tomb of a departed friend, and let it abide with you as a 
witness of that affectionate respect and honour that I bore 
him ; all which, as your ladyship's most rightful due, both by 
merit and by succession, is now humbly offered, by, Madam, 

Your Ladyship's most hearty and obedient servant, 

I. Watts. 



TO THE 
DEAR MEMORY OF MY HONOURED FRIEND, 

THOMAS GUNSTON, ESQ. 

VSTHO DIED IfOVEMBER U, 1700, "^\^^E]S HE HAD JUST 
FINISHED HIS SEAT AT NEWINGTON. 

Op blasted hopes, and of short withering joys, 
Sing, heavenly muse. Try thine ethereal voice 
In funeral numbers and a doleful song ; 
Gunston the just, the generous, and the young, 



HOR.E LTRICiE. 267 

Gimston, the friend, is dead. O empty name 
Of earthly bliss ! 'Tis all an airy dream, 
All a vain thought ! Our soaring fancies rise 
On treacherous wings ! and hopes that touch the 

skies 
Drag but a longer ruin thro' the downward air, 
And plunge the falling joy still deeper in despair. 

How did our soull stand flatter'd and prepar'd 
To shout him welcome to the seat he rear'd ! 
There the dear man should see his hopes complete, 
Smiling and tasting every lawful sweet 
That peace and plenty brings, while numerous years 
Circling, delightful play'd around the spheres : 
Revolving suns should still renew his strength, 
And draw the uncommon thread to an unusual 

length ; 
But hasty fate thrusts her dread shears between, 
Cuts the young life off, and shuts up the scene. 
Thus airy pleasure dances in our eyes. 
And spreads false images in fair disguise, 
To allure our souls, till just within our arms 
The vision dies, and all the painted charms 
Flee quick away from the pursuing sight, 
Till they are lost in shades, and mingle with the 

night. 

Muse, stretch thy wings, and thy saa journey 
bend 
To the fair fabric that thy dying friend 



268 HOK^ LYRICS. 

Built nameless : 'twill suggest a thousand things 
Mournful and soft as my Urania sings. 

How did he lay the deep foundation strong, 
Marking the bounds, and rear the walls along 
Solid and lasting ! there a numerous train 
Of happy Gunstons might in pleasure reign, 
While nations perish, and long ages run, 
Nations unborn, and ages unbegun : 
Not time itself should waste the blest estate. 
Nor the tenth race rebuild the ancient seat. 
How fond our fancies are ! The founder dies 
Childless ; his sisters weep and close his eyes, 
And wait upon his hearse with never-ceasing cries. 
Lofty and slow it moves to meet the tomb. 
While weighty sorrows nod on every plume ; 
A thousand groans his dear remains convey 
To his cold lodging in a bed of clay, [way. 

His country's sacred tears well-watering all the 
See the dull wheels roll on the sable road ; 
But no dear son to tread the mournful load, 
And fondly kind drop his young sorrows there. 
The father's urn bedewing with a filial tear. 
had he left us one behind, to play 
Wanton about the painted hall, and say 
" This was my father's," with impatient joy, 
In my fond arms I 'd clasp the smiling boy. 
And call him my young friend : but awful fate 
Design'd the mighty stroke, as lasting as 'twas 
great. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 269 

And must this building then, this costly frame, 
Stand here for strangers? Must some unknown 

name 
Possess these rooms, the labours of my friend ? 
Why were these walls rais'd for this hapless end ? 
Why these apartments all adorn'd so gay ? 
Why his rich fancy lavish'd thus away ? 
Muse, view the paintings, how the hovering light 
Plays o'er the colours in a wanton flight. 
And mingled shades wrought in by soft degrees, 
Give a sweet foil to all the charming piece. 
But night, eternal night, hangs black around. 
The dismal chambers of the hollow ground. 
And solid shades unmingled round his bed 
Stand hideous : earthly fogs embrace his head. 
And noisome vapours glide along his face, 
Rising perpetual ! Muse, forsake the place. 
Flee the raw damps of the unwholesome clay. 
Look to his airy spacious hall, and say, 
" How has he chang'd it for a lonesome cave, 
" Confin'd and crowded in a narrow grave ! " 

The unhappy house looks desolate and mourns, 
And every door groans doleful as it turns ; 
The pillars languish ; and each lofty wall, 
Stately in grief, laments the master's fall, 
In drops of briny dew ; the fabric bears 
His faint resemblance, and renews my tears. 
Solid and square it rises from below : 
A noble air, without a gaudy show. 



270 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Reigns through the model, and adorns the whole, 
Manly and plain. Such was the builder's soul. 

how I love to view the stately frame, 
That dear memorial of the best lov'd name ! 
Then could I wish for some prodigious cave 
Vast as his seat, and silent as his grave, 
Where the tall shades stretch to the hideous roof, 
Forbid the day, and guard the sunbeams off; 
Thither, my willing feet, should ye be drawn 
At the gray twilight, and the early dawn. 
There, sweetly sad, should my soft minutes roll, 
Numbering the sorrows of my drooping soul. 
But these are airy thoughts ! substantial grief 
Grows by those objects that should yield relief; 
Fond of my woes, I heave my eyes around, 
My grief from every prospect courts a wound ; 
Views the green gardens, views the smiling skies, 
Still my heart sinks, and still my cares arise ; 
My wandering feet round the fair mansion rove. 
And there to soothe ray sorrows I indulge my love. 

Oft have I laid the awful Calvin by. 
And the sweet Cowley, with impatient eye 
To see those walls, pay the sad visit there. 
And drop the tribute of an hourly tear : 
Still I behold some melancholy scene, [between. 
With many a pensive thought, and many a sigh 
Two days ago, we took the evening air, 
I, and my grief, and my Urania there ; 



HOR^ LYRICS. 271 

Say, my Urania, how the western sun 

Broke from black clouds, and in full glory shone, 

Gilding the roof, then dropt into the sea, 

And sudden night devour'd the sweet remains of 

day; 
Thus the bright youth just rear'd his shining head 
From obscure shades of life, and sunk among the 

dead. 
The rising sun, adorn'd with all his hght, 
Smiles on these walls again : but endless night 
Reigns uncontroU'd where the dear Gunston lies ; 
He 's set for ever, and must never rise. 
Then why these beams, unseasonable star. 
These lightsome smiles descending from afar. 
To greet a mourning house ? In vain the day 
Breaks through the windows with a joyful ray, 
And marks a shining path along the floors 
Bounding the evening and the morning hours ; 
In vain it bounds them ; while vast emptiness 
And hollow silence reigns through all the place, 
Nor heeds the cheerful change of nature's face 
Yet nature's wheels will on without control. 
The sun will rise, the tuneful spheres will roll, 
And the two nightly Bears walk round and watch 

the pole. 

See while I speak, high on her sable wheel 
Old night advancing climbs the eastern hill : 
Troops of dark clouds prepare her way ; behold, 
How their brown pinions, edg'd with evening gold. 



272 HORiE LYRICS. 

Spread shadowing o'er the house, and glide 

away, 
Slowly pursuing the declining day ; 
O'er the broad roof they fly their circuit still, 
Thus days before they did, and days to come they ' 

will ; 
But the black cloud that shadows o'er his eyes, 
Hangs there unmovable, and never flies : 
Fain would I bid the envious gloom be gone ; 
Ah, fruitless wish ! how are his curtains drawn 
For a long evening that despairs the dawn ! 

Muse, view the turret: just beneath the skies 
Lonesome it stands, and fixes my sad eyes, 
As it would ask a tear. O sacred seat. 
Sacred to friendship ! divine retreat ! 
Here did I hope my happy hours to employ, 
And fed beforehand on the promis'd joy, 
"When, weary of the noisy town, my friend, 
From mortal cares retiring, should ascend. 
And lead me thither. We alone would sit 
Free and secure of all intruding feet : 
Our thoughts should stretch their longest wings 

and rise. 
Nor bound their soarings by the lower skies : 
Our tongues should aim at everlasting themes. 
And speak what mortals dare, of all the names 
Of boundless joys and glories, thrones and seats 
Built high in heaven for souls : We 'd trace the 

streets 



HORiE LYRICS. 273 

Of golden pavement, walk each blissful field, 
And climb and taste the fruits the spicy mountains 

yield ; 
Then would we swear to keep the sacred road, 
And walk right upwards to that blest abode : 
We 'd charge our parting spirits there to meet, 
There, hand in hand, approach the almighty seat. 
And bend our heads adoring at our Maker's feet. 
Thus should we mount on bold adventurous wings 
In high discourse, and dwell on heavenly things. 
While the pleas'd hours in sweet succession move. 
And minutes measur'd, as they are above. 
By ever-circling joys, and ever-shining love. 

Anon our thoughts should lower their lofty flight, 
Sink by degrees, and take a pleasing sight, 
A large round prospect of the spreading plain, 
The wealthy river, and his winding train, 
The smoky city, and the busy men. 
How we should smile to see degenerate worms 
Lavish their Uves, and fight for airy forms 
Of painted honour, dreams of empty sound 
Till envy rise, and shoot a secret wound 
At swelling glory, straight the bubble breaks, 
And the scenes vanish, as the man awakes ; 
Then the tall titles, insolent and proud, 
Sink to the dust, and mingle with the crowd. 

Man is a restless thing : Still vain and wild. 
Lives beyond sixty, nor outgrows the child : 
18 



274 HOR^ LYRICiE. 

His hurrying lusts still break the sacred bound, 
To seek new pleasures on forbidden ground, 
And buy them all too dear. Unthinking fool, 
For a short dying joy to sell a deathless soul ! 
'Tis but a grain of sweetness they can sow. 
And reap the long sad harvest of immortal woe. 

Another tribe toil in a different strife, 
And banish all the lawful sweets of life, 
To sweat and dig for gold, to hoard the ore, 
Hide the dear dust yet darker than before. 
And never dare to use a grain of all the store. 
Happy the man that knows the value just 
Of earthly things, nor is enslav'd to dust. 
'Tis a rich gift the skies but rarely send 
To favourite souls. Then happy thou, my friend, 
For thou hadst learnt to manage and command 
The wealth that heaven bestow'd with liberal 

hand: 
Hence this fair structure rose ; and hence this seat 
Made to invite my not unwilling feet : 
In vain 'twas made ! for we shall never meet. 
And smile, and love, and bless each other here ; 
The envious tomb forbids thy face to appear, 
Detains thee, Gunston, from my longing eyes, 
And all my hopes lie buried, where my Gunston 

lies. 

Come hither, all ye tenderest souls, that know 
The heights of fondness and the depths of woe, 



HOK^ LYRICS. 275 

Young mothers, who your darling babes have 

found 
Untimely murder'd with a ghastly wound ; 
Ye frighted nymphs, who on the bridal bed 
Clasp'd in your arms your lovers, cold and dead, 
Come ; in the pomp of all your wild despair, 
With flowing eyelids, and disorder'd hair. 
Death in your looks ; come, mingle grief with me. 
And drown your little streams in my unbounded 

sea. 

You sacred mourners of a nobler mould. 
Born for a friend, whose dear embraces hold 
Beyond all nature's ties ; you that have known 
Two happy souls made intimately one, 
And felt a parting stroke : 'Tis you must tell 
The smart, the twinges, and the racks I feel : 
This soul of mine that dreadful wound has borne, 
Off from its side its dearest half is torn. 
The rest Hes bleeding, and but lives to mourn. 
Oh infinite distress ! such raging grief 
Should command pity, and despair relief. 
Passion, methinks, should rise from all my 

groans. 
Give sense to rocks, and sympathy to stones. 

Ye dusky woods and echoing hills around. 
Repeat my cries with a perpetual sound : 
Be all ye flowery vales with thorns o'ergrown, 
Assist my sorrows, and declare your own ; 



276 HOR^ LYRICiE. 

Alas ! your lord is dead. The humble plain 
Must ne'er receive his courteous feet again : 
Mourn, ye gay smiling meadows, and be seen 
In wintry robes, instead of youthful green ; 
And bid the brook, that still runs warbling by, 
Move silent on, and weep his useless channel dry. 
Hither methinks the lowing herd should come, 
And moaning turtles murmur o'er his tomb ; 
The oak shall wither, and the curling vine 
Weep his young life out, while his arms untwine 
Their amorous folds, and mix his bleeding soul 
with mine. 

Ye stately elms, in your long order mourn ; 1 
Strip off your pride to dress your master's urn : 
Here gently drop your leaves instead of tears : 
Ye elms, the reverend growth of ancient years. 
Stand tall and naked to the blustering rage 
Of the mad winds ; thus it becomes your age 
To show your sorrows. Often ye have seen 
Our heads reclin'd upon the rising green ; 
Beneath your sacred shade diffus'd we lay, 
Here friendship reign'd with an unbounded sway. 
Hither our souls their constant offerings brought, 
The burdens of the breast, and labours of the 

thought ; 
Our opening bosoms on the conscious ground 
Spread all the sorrows and the joys we found, 

1 There was a long row of tall elms then standing, where, 
some years after, the lower garden was made. 



HOR^ LYRICS. 277 

And mingled every care; nor was it known 
Which of the pains and pleasures were our own ; 
Then with an equal hand and honest soul 
We share the heap, yet both possess the whole, 
And all the passions there thro' both our bosoms 

roll. 
By turns we comfort, and by turns complain. 
And bear and ease by turns the sympathy of pain. 

Friendship ! mysterious thing, what magic powers 
Support thy sway, and charm these minds of ours ? 
Bound to thy foot, we boast our birthright still, 
And dream of freedom, when we 've lost our will, 
And chang'd away our souls : at thy command, 
We snatch new miseries from a foreign hand. 
To call them ours ; and, thoughtless of our ease, 
Plague the dear self that we were born to please. 
Thou tyranness of minds, whose cruel throne 
Heaps on poor mortals sorrows not their own ; 
As though our mother nature could no more 
Find woes sufficient for each son she bore. 
Friendship divides the shares, and lengthens out 

the store. 
Yet are we fond of thine imperious reign, 
Proud of thy, slavery, wanton in our pain. 
And chide the courteous hand when death dissolves 

the chain. 

Virtue, forgive the thought ! the raving muse. 
Wild and despairing, knows not what she does, 



278 HOR^ LTRIC.E. 

Grows mad in grief, and in her savage hours 
Affronts the name she loves and she adores. 
She is thy votaress too ; and at thy shrine, 
O sacred friendship, offer'd songs divine, 
"While Gunston liv'd, and both our souls were thine. 
Here to these shades, at solemn hours, we cam(^ 
To pay devotion with a mutual flame, 
Partners in bliss. Sweet luxury of the mind ! 
And sweet the aids of sense : Each ruder wind 
Slept in its caverns, while an evening breeze 
Fann'd the leaves gently, sporting thro' the trees : 
The linnet and the lark their vespers sung. 
And clouds of crimson o'er the horizon hung ; 
The slow decHning sun, with sloping wheels 
Sunk down the golden day behind the western hills. 

Mourn, ye young gardens, ye unfinish'd gates, 
Ye green inclosures and ye growing sweets. 
Lament ; for ye our midnight hours have known, 
And watch'd us walking by the silent moon. 
In conference divine, while heavenly fire 
Kindling our breasts did all our thoughts inspire 
With joys almost immortal ; then our zeal 
Blaz'd and burnt high to reach the ethereal hill, 
And love refin'd, like that above the poles. 
Threw both our arms round one another's souls 
In rapture, and embraces. Oh forbear. 
Forbear, my song ! this is too much to hear, 
Too dreadful to repeat ; such joys as these 
Fled from the earth for ever ! . . . . 



HOR^ LYRICiE. 279 

Oh, for a general grief ! let all things share 

Our woes that know our loves : The neighbouring 

air, 
Let it be laden with immortal sighs, 
And tell the gales, that every breath that flics 
Over these fields should murmur and complain. 
And kiss the fading grass, and propagate the pain. 
Weep all ye buildings, and the groves around 
For ever weep : this is an endless wound, 
Vast and incurable. Ye buildings knew 
His silver tongue, ye groves have heard it too : 
At that dear sound no more shall ye rejoice. 
And I no more must hear the charming voice : 
Woe to my drooping soul ! that heavenly breath, 
That could speak life, lies now congeal'd in death. 
While on his folded lips, all cold and pale, 
Eternal chains and heavy silence dwell. 

Yet my fond hope would hear him speak again, 
Once more at least, one gentle word, and then 
Gunston aloud I call. In vain I cry 
Gunston aloud ; for he must ne'er reply. 
In vain I mourn, and drop these funeral tears, 
Death and the grave have neither eyes nor ears ; 
Wandering I tune my sorrows to the groves. 
And vent my swelling griefs, and tell the winds 

our loves ; 
While the dear youth sleeps fast, and hears them 

not: 
He hath forgot me : In the lonesome vault, 



280 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Mindless of Watts and friendship, cold he lies 
Deaf and unthinking clay .... 

But whither am I led ? This artless grief 
Hurries the muse on, obstinate and deaf 
To all the nicer rules, and bears her down 
From the tall fabric to the neighbouring ground: 
The pleasing hours, the happy moments past 
In these sweet fields reviving on my taste 
Snatch me away, resistless, with impetuous haste. 
Spread thy strong pinions once again, my song, 
And reach the turret thou hast left so long : 
O'er the wide roofs its lofty head it rears. 
Long waiting our converse ; but only hears 
The noisy tumults of the realms on high ; 
The winds salute it whistling as they fly, 
Or jarring round the windows ; rattling showers 
Lash the fair sides ; above, loud thunder roars ; 
But still the master sleeps ; nor hears the voice 
Of sacred friendship, nor the tempest's noise : 
An iron slumber sits on every sense. 
In vain the heavenly thunders strive to rouse it 
thence. 

One labour more, my muse, the golden sphere 
Seems to demand : See through the dusky air 
Downward it shines upon the rising moon ; 
And as she labours up to reach her noon. 
Pursues her orb with repercussive light. 
And streaming gold repays the paler beams of 
night : 



HOR^ LYRICuE. 281 

But not one ray can reach tlie darksome grave, 
Or pierce the solid gloom that fills the cave 
Where Gunston dwells in death. Behold, it flames 
Like some new meteor with diffusive beams 
Through the mid-heaven, and overcomes the stars ; 
" So shines thy Gunston's soul above the spheres," 
Raphael replies, and wipes away my tears. 
" We saw the flesh sink down with closing eyes, 
•' We heard thy grief shriek out, he dies ! he dies ! 
•' Mistaken grief! to call the flesh the friend ! 
•' On our fair wings did the bright youth ascend, 
•' All heaven embrac'd him with immortal love 
'' And sung his welcome to the courts above. 
"' Gentle Ithuriel led him round the skies, 
" The buildings struck him with immense surprise ; 
" The spires all radiant, and the mansions bright, 
•' The roof high- vaulted with ethereal light : 
•' Beauty and strength on the tall bulwarks sat, 
'' In heavenly diamonds ; and for every gate, 
•' On golden hinges, a broad ruby turns, 
•' Guards of the foe, and as it moves it burns ; 
•' Millions of glories reign through every part: 
•' Infinite power, and uncreated art, 
" Stand here display'd, and to the strangers show 
*' How it outshines the noblest seats below. 
•' The stranger fed his gazing powers awhile 
•' Transported : Then with a regardless smile, 
" Glanc'd his eyes downward thro' the crystal floor, 
" And took eternal leave of what he built be- 
fore." 



282 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Now, fair Urania, leave the doleful strain : 
Raphael commands : Assume thy joys again. 
In everlasting numbers sing, and say, 
" Gunston has mov'd his dwelling to the realms 

of day; 
" Gunston the friend lives still ; and give thy groans 

away." 



TO ME. AETHUR SHALLET, MEECHANT. 

Worthy Sie, 

The subject of the followmg elegy was high in your esteem, 
and enjoyed a large share of your affections. Scarce doth 
his memory need the assistance of the muse to make it per- 
petual; but when she can at once pay her honours to the 
venerable dead, and by this address acknowledge the favours 
she has received from the living, it is a double pleasure to. 
Sir, your obliged humble servant, I. Watts. 



TO THE MEMORY OF 

THE REV. MR. THOMAS GOUGE, 

WHO DIED JAN. 8, 1699-1700- 

Ye virgin souls, whose sweet complaint 

Could teach Euphrates-^ not to flow. 
Could Sion's ruin so divinely paint, 

1 Psal. exxxvii. Lament, i. 2, 3. 



HORiE LYRICS. 283 

Array'd in beauty and in woe : 
Awake, ye virgin souls, to mourn, [urn. 

And with your tuneful sorrows dress a prophet's 

O could my lips or flowing eyes 
But imitate such charming grief, 
I'd teach the seas, and teach the skies, 
Wailings, and sobs, and sympathies. 
Nor should the stones or rocks be deaf ; 
Rocks shall have eyes, and stones have ears. 
While Gouge's death is mourn'd in melody and 
tears. 

Heaven was impatient of our crimes. 

And sent his minister of death 
To scourge the bold rebellion of the times. 
And to demand our prophet's breath ; 

He came commission'd for the fates 

Of awful Mead, and charming Bates ; 

There he essay'd the vengeance first. 
Then took a dismal aim, and brought great Gouge 

to dust. 
Great Gouge to dust ! how doleful is the sound ! 
How vast the stroke is ! and how wide the wound ! 

Oh painful stroke ! distressing death ! 
A wound unmeasurably wide : 
No vulgar mortal died 
When he resign'd his breath. 

The muse that mourns a nation's fall, 

Should wait at Gouore's funeral, 



284 B.ORM LYRICJE. 

Should mingle majesty and groans, 
Such as she sings to sinking thrones, 
And in deep sounding numbers tell, 
How Sion trembled, when this pillar fell. 
Sion grows weak, and England poor. 
Nature herself, with all her store, 
Can furnish such a pomp for death no more. 

The reverend man let all things moan ; 

Sure he was some ethereal mind, 

Fated in flesh to be confin'd, 
And order'd to be born. 
His soul was of the angelic frame. 
The same ingredients, and the mould the same, 
When the Creator makes a minister of flame. 

He was all form'd of heavenly things. 
Mortals, believe what my Urania sings. 
For she has seen him rise upon his flamy wings. 

E&ow would he mount, how would he fly 
Up through the ocean of the sky, 

Tow'rd the celestial coast ! 
With what amazing swiftness soar 
Till earth's dark ball was seen no more, 

And all its mountains lost ! 
Scarce could the muse pursue him with her sight : 

But angels, you can tell. 
For oft you meet his wondrous flight. 

And knew the stranger well ; 
Say, how he past the radiant spheres, 



HOR^ LYRIciE. 285 

And visited your happy seats, 
And trac'd the well-known turnings of the golden 
streets, 
And walk'd among the stars. 

Tell how he climb'd the everlasting hills, 

Surveying all the realms above, 
Borne on a strong-wing'd faith, and on the fiery 
wheels 
Of an immortal love. 
'Twas there he took a glorious sight 
Of the inheritance of saints in light. 
And read their title in their Saviour's right. 
How oft the humble scholar came, 
And to your songs he rais'd his ears 
To learn the unutterable name. 
To view the eternal base that bears 
The new creation's frame. 

The countenance of God he saw, 
Full of mercy ; full of awe, 
The glories of his power, and glories of his grace : 
There he beheld the wondrous springs 

Of those celestial sacred things. 
The peaceful gospel, and the fiery law 

In that majestic face. 
That face did all his gazing powers employ, 
With most profound abasement and exalted joy. 
The rolls of fate were half unseal'd. 
He stood adoring by ; 



286 HOR^ LYRICiE. 

The volumes open'd to his eye, 
And sweet intelligence he held 
With all his shining kindred of the sky. 

Ye seraphs, that surround the throne, 
Tell how his name was through the palace known, 
How warm his zeal was, and how like your own : 
Speak it aloud, let half the nation hear, 

And bold blasphemers shrink and fear : ^ 
Impudent tongues ! to blast a prophet's name ! 
The poison sure was fetch'd from hell. 
Where the old blasphemers dwell, 
To taint the purest dust, and blot the whitest 

fame! 
Impudent tongues ! You should be darted through, 
Nail'd to your own black mouths, and lie 
Useless and dead till slander die, 
Till slander die with you. 

" We saw him," said the ethereal throng, 
" We saw his warm devotions rise, 
" We heard the fervour of his cries, 
" And mix'd his praises with our song : 
" We knew the secret flights of his retiring hours, 

" Nightly he wak'd his inward powers, 
" Young Israel rose to wrestle with his God, 
" And with unconquer'd force scal'd the celestial 
" towers, 

1 Though he was so great and good a man, he did not es- 
cape censure. 



HOR^ LYRIOiE. 287 

'' To reach the blessing down for those that sought 

" his blood. 
"' Oft we beheld the thunderer's hand 
" Rais'd high to crush the factious foe ; 
•' As oft we saw the rolling vengeance stand 

" Doubtful to obey the dread command, 
" "While his ascending prayer upheld the falling 
"blow." 

Draw the past scenes of thy delight, 
My muse, and bring the wondrous man to sight. 

Place him surrounded as he stood 

With pious crowds, while from his tongue 
A stream of harmony ran soft along, 
And every ear drank in the flowing good : 

Softly it ran its silver way. 
Till warm devotion rais'd the current strong ; 
Then fervid zeal on the sweet deluge rode, 

Life, love, and glory, grace and joy, 
Divinely roll'd, promiscuous, on the torrent-flood, 
And bore our raptur'd sense away, and thoughts 
and souls to God. 

might we dwell for ever there ! 
No more return to breathe this grosser air. 
This atmosphere of sin, calamity, and care. 

But heavenly scenes soon leave the sight 

While we belong to clay. 
Passions of terror and delight. 

Demand alternate sway. 



288 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Behold the man, whose awful voice 

Could well proclaim the fiery law, 

Kindle the flames that Moses saw, 

And swell the trumpet's warlike noise. 
He stands the herald of the threat'ning skies, 
Lo, on his reverend brow the frowns divinely rise, 
All Sinai's thunder on his tongue, and lightning 
in his eyes. 

Round the high roof the curses flew, 

Distinguishing each guilty head. 
Far from the unequal war the atheist fled. 

His kindled arrows still pursue, 

His arrows strike the atheist through. 
And o'er his inmost powers a shuddering horror 

spread. 
The marble heart groans with an inward wound ; 

Blaspheming souls of harden'd steel 
Shriek out amaz'd at the new pangs they feel, 

And dread the echoes of the sound. 

The lofty wretch, arm'd and array'd 
In gaudy pride, sinks down his impious head. 
Plunges in dark despair, and mingles with the dead. 

Now muse, assume a softer strain. 
Now soothe the sinner's raging smart. 
Borrow of Gouge the wondrous art 
To calm the surging conscience, and assuage the 
pain; 
He from a bleeding God derives 



HOR^ LYRICS. 289 

Life for tlie souls that guilt had slain, 
And straight the dying rebel lives, 

The dead arise again ; 
The opening skies almost obey 
His powerful song ; a heavenly ray 
Awakes despair to light, and sheds a cheerful day, 
His wondrous voice rolls back the spheres, 
Recalls the scenes of ancient years. 

To make the Saviour known ; 
Sweetly the flying charmer roves 
Through all his labours and his loves. 
The anguish of his cross, and triumphs of his 
throne. 

Come, he invites our feet to try 
The steep ascent of Calvary, 
And sets the fatal tree before our eye : 
See here celestial sorrow reigns : 
Rude nails and ragged thorns lay by, 
Ting'd with the crimson of redeeming veins. 
In wondrous words, he sung the vital flood 
Where all our sins were drown' d, 
Words fit to heal and fit to wound. 
Sharp as the spear, and balmy as the blood. 

In his discourse divine 
Afresh the purple fountain flow'd ; 
Our falling tears kept sympathetic time. 
And trickled to the ground, 
While every accent gave a doleful sound, [God. 
Sad as the breaking heartstrings of the expiring 
19 



290 HOR^ LYRICS. 

Down to the mansions of the dead, 
With trembling joy, our souls are led, 

The captives of his tongue ; 
There the dear prince of light reclines his head 

Darkness and shades among. 
With pleasing horror we survey 

The caverns of the tomb. 
Where the belov'd Redeemer lay, 

And shed a sweet perfume. 
Hark, the old earthquake roars again 
In Gouge's voice, and breaks the chain 
Of heavy death, and rends the tombs : 
The rising God ! he comes, he comes, [train. 
With throngs of wakmg saints, a long triumphing 

See the bright squadrons of the sky. 
Downward on wings of joy and haste they fly, 
Meet their returning sovereign, and attend him 
high. 

A shining car the conqueror fills, 

Form'd of a golden cloud ; 
Slowly the pomp moves up the azure hills, 

Old Satan foams and yells aloud, 
And gnaws the eternal brass that binds him to 

the wheels. 
The opening gates of bliss receive their king, 

The Father- God smiles on his Son, 
Pays him the honours he has won. 
The lofty thrones adore, and little cherubs sing. 

Behold him on his native throne, 



IIOR^ LYRICJS. 291 

Glory sits fast upon his head ; 
Dress'd in new light, and beamy robes, 
His hand rolls on the seasons and the shining 

globes. 
And sways the living worlds, and regions of the 

dead. 
Gouge was his envoy to the realm below, 
Vast was his trust, and great his skill. 
Bright the credentials he could show, 

And thousands own'd the seal, 
His hallow'd lips could well impart 
The grace, the promise, and command : 
He knew the pity of Immanuel's heart. 
And terrors of Jehovah's hand. 
How did our souls start out, to hear 
The embassies of love he bare. 
While every ear in rapture hung 
Upon the charming wonders of his tongue ! 
Life's busy cares a sacred silence bound. 
Attention stood with all her powers, 
With fixed eyes and awe profound, 
Chain'd to the pleasure of the sound, 
Nor knew the flying hours. 

But my everlasting grief! 

Heaven has recall'd his envoy ffom our eyes, 

Hence deluges of sorrow rise. 

Nor hope the impossible relief. 

Ye remnants of the sacred tribe, 

Who feel the loss, come share the smart, 



292 HORiE LYRICS. 

And mix your groans with mine : 

Where is the tongue that can describe 

Infinite things with equal art. 
Or language so divine ? 

Our passions want the heavenly flame, 
Almighty love breathes faintly in our songs, 
And awful threat'nings languish on our tongues : 

Howe is a great but single name : 
Amidst the crowd he stands alone : 
Stands yet, but with his starry pinions on, 
Drest for the flight, and ready to be gone. 

Eternal God, command his stay. 

Stretch the dear months of his delay ; 
O we could wish his age were one immortal day ! 

But when the flaming chariot 's come. 
And shining guards, to attend thy prophet home. 

Amidst a thousand weeping eyes. 
Send an Elisha down, a soul of equal size, 
Or burn this worthless globe, and take us to the 
skies. 



DIVINE SONGS 
FOR CHILDREN. 



PREFACE. 

to all that are concerned in the edu- 
cation of children. 

My Friends, 

It is an awful and important charge that is com- 
mitted to you. The wisdom and welfare of the 
succeeding generation are intrusted with you be- 
forehand, and depend much on your conduct. The 
seeds of misery or happiness in this world, and 
that to come, are oftentimes sown very early; 
and therefore, whatever may conduce to give the 
minds of children a relish for virtue and religion, 
ought, in the first place, to be proposed to you. 

Verse was at first designed for the service of 
God, though it hath been wretchedly abused since. 
The ancients, among the Jews and the Heathens, 
taught their children and disciples the precepts of 
morality and worship in verse. The children of 
Israel were commanded to learn the words of the 
song of Moses, Deut. xxxi. 19, 30, and we are 
directed in the New Testament, not only to sing 
" with grace in the heart," but to " teach and ad- 
monish one another by hymns and songs," Ephes. 
v. 19. And there are these four advantasres in it. 



296 DIVINE SONGS. 

I. There is a great delight in the very learning 
of truths and duties this way. There is some- 
thing so amusing and entertaining in rhymes and 
metre, that will incline children to make this part 
of their business a diversion. And you may turn 
their very duty into a reward, by giving them the 
privilege of learning one of these songs every 
week, if they fulfil the business of the week well, 
and promising them the book itself, when they 
have learned ten or twenty songs out of it. 

II. What is learned in verse is longer retained 
in memory, and sooner recollected. The like 
sounds, and the like number of syllables, exceed- 
ingly assist the remembrance. And it may often 
happen that the end of a song running in the 
mind, may be an effectual means to keep off some 
temptations, or to incline to some duty, when a 
word of scripture is not upon their thoughts. 

III. This will be a constant furniture for the - 
minds of children, that they may have something 
to think upon when alone, and sing over to them- 
selves. This may sometimes give their thoughts 

a divine turn, and raise a young meditation. Thus 
they will not be forced to seek relief for an empti- 
ness of mind, out of the loose and dangerous son- 
nets of the age. 

IV. These Divine Songs may be a pleasant and 
proper matter for their daily or weekly worship, 
to sing one in the family, at such time as the pa- 
rents or governors shall appoint ; and therefore I 



DIVINE SONGS. 297 

have confined the verse to the most usual psalm 
tunes. 

The greatest part of this little book was com- 
posed several years ago, at the request of a friend, 
who has been long engaged in the work of catechiz- 
ing a very great number of children of all kinds, 
and with abundant skill and success. So that you 
will find here nothing that savours of a party. 
The children of high and low degree, of the church 
of England or Dissenters, baptized in infancy, or 
not, may all join together in these songs. And as 
I have endeavoured to sink the language to the 
level of a child's understanding, and yet to keep 
it, if possible, above contempt ; so I have designed 
to profit all, if possible, and offend none. I hope 
the more general the sense is, these composures 
may be of the more universal use and service. 

I have added at the end, some attempts of son- 
nets on moral subjects, for children, with an air 
of pleasantry, to provoke some fitter pen to wiite 
a little book of them. 

May the Almighty God make you faithful in 
this important work of education ; may he suc- 
ceed your cares with his abundant grace, that the 
rising generation of Great Britain may be a glory 
among the nations, a pattern to the Christian world, 
and a blessing to the earth. 



DIVINE SONGS. 

I. 
A GENERAL SONG OF PRAISE TO GOD. 

How glorious is our heavenly King, 

Who reigns above the sky ! 
How shall a child presume to sing 

His dreadful majesty ? 

How great his power is, none can tell, 
Nor think how large his grace ; 

Not men below, nor saints that dwell 
On high before his face. 

Not angels that stand round the Lord, 

Can search his secret will ; 
But they perform his heavenly word, 

And sing his praises still. 

Then let me join this holy train, 
And my first offerings bring ; 

The eternal God will not disdain 
To hear an infant sing. 

My heart resolves, my tongue obeys. 

And angels shall rejoice 
To hear their mighty Maker's praise 

Sound from a feeble voice. 



DIVINE SONGS. 299 



PKAISE FOR CEEATION AND PROVI- 
DENCE. 

I SING the almighty power of God, 
That made the mountains rise, 

That spread the flowing seas abroad, 
And built the lofty skies. 

I sing the wisdom that ordain'd 

The sun to rule the day ; 
The moon shines full at his command, 

And all the stars obey. 

I sing the goodness of the Lord, 
That fiU'd the earth with food ; 

He form'd the creatures with his word, 
And then pronounc'dthem good. 

Lord, how thy wonders are display'd. 

Where'er I turn mine eye, 
If I survey the ground I tread, 

Or gaze upon the sky. 

There 's not a plant, or flower below. 
But makes thy glories known ; 

And clouds arise and tempests blow. 
By order from thy throne. 



300 DIVINE SONGS. 

Creatures (as num'rcus as they be) 

Are subject to thy care ; 
There 's not a place where we can flee 

But God is present there. 

In heaven he shines with beams of love, 
With wrath in hell beneath ! 

'Tis on his earth I stand or move, 
And 'tis his air I breathe. 

His hand is my perpetual guard ; 

He keeps me with his eye ; 
Why should I then forget the Lord, 

Who is for ever nigh ? 



m. 

PRAISE TO GOD FOR OUR REDEMPTION. 

Blest be the wisdom and the power, 

The justice and the grace, 
That join'd in council to restore, 

And save our ruin'd race. 

Our father ate forbidden fruit. 

And from his glory fell ; 
And we his children thus were brought 

To death, and near to hell. 



DIVINE SONGS. 301 

Blest be the Lord that sent his Son 

To take our flesh and blood ; 
He for our lives gave up his own, 

To make our peace with God. 

He honour'd all his Father's laws, 

Which we have disobey'd ; 
He bore our sins upon the cross. 

And our full ransom paid. 

Behold him rising from the grave ; 

Behold him rais'd on high ; 
He pleads his merit, there to save 

Transgressors doom'd to die. 

There, on a glorious throne, he reigns, 

And by his power divine 
Redeems us from the slavish chains 

Of Satan and of sin. 

Thence shall the Lord to judgment come, 

And with a sovereign voice 
Shall call, and break up every tomb, 

While waking saints rejoice. 

may I then with joy appear 

Before the Judge's face. 
And with the bless'd assembly there 

Sing his redeeming grace ! 



302 DIVINE SONGS. 



IV. 



PRAISE FOR MERCIES SPIRITUAL AND 
TEMPORAL. 

Whene'er I take my walks abroad, 

How many poor I see ! 
What shall I render to my God 

For all his gifts to me ? 

Not more than others I desei've, 

Yet God hath given me more ; 
For I have food while others starve, 

Or beg from door to door. 

How many children in the street 

Half naked I behold ! 
While I am cloth'd from head to feet, 

And cover'd from the cold. 

While some poor MTetches scarce can tell 
Where they may lay their head ; 

I have a home wherein to dwell, 
And rest upon my bed. 

While others early learn to swear. 

And curse, and lie, and steal ; 
Lord, I am taught thy name to fear, 

And do thy holy will. 



DIVINE SONGS. 303 

Are these thy favours day by day 

To me above the rest ? 
Then let me love thee more than they, 

And try to serve thee best. 



Y. 

PRAISE FOR BIRTH AND EDUCATION IN 
A CHRISTIAN LAND. 

Great God, to thee my voice I raise. 
To thee my youngest hours belong ; 
I would begin my life with praise. 
Till growing years improve tlie song. 

'Tis to thy sovereign grace I owe 
That I was born on British ground ; 
Where streams of heavenly mercy flow, 
And words of sweet salvation sound. 

I would not change my native land 
For rich Peru with all her gold : 
A nobler prize lies in my hand, 
Than East or Western Indies hold. 

How do I pity those that dwell 
Where ignorance and darkness reigns ! 
They know no heaven, they fear no hell, 
Those endless joys, those endless pains. 



304 DIVINE SONGS. 

Thy glorious promises, O Lord, 
Kindle my hopes and my desire ; 
While all the preachers of thy Word 
Warn me to 'scape eternal fire. 

Thy praise shall still employ my breath. 
Since thou hast mark'd my way to heaven ; 
Nor will I run the road to death, 
And waste the blessings thou hast given. 



YI. 
PRAISE FOR THE GOSPEL. 

Lord, I ascribe it to thy grace, 
And not to chance, as others do. 
That I was born of Christian race, 
And not a Heathen or a Jew. 

What would the ancient Jewish kings. 
And Jewish prophets, once have given. 
Could they have heard these glorious things. 
Which Christ reveal'd and brought from heaven ! 

How glad the heathens would have been, 
That worship idols, wood and stone, 
If they the book of God had seen. 
Or Jesus and his gospel known ! 



DIVINE SONGS. 305 



Then if this gospel I refuse, 
How shall I e'er lift up mine eyes? 
For all the Gentiles and the Jews 
Against me will in judgment rise. 



vn. 

THE EXCELLENCY OF THE BIBLE. 

Geeat God, with wonder and with praise, 

On all thy works I look ; 
But still thy wisdom, power and grace, 

SMne brighter in thy book. 

* 
The stars, that in their courses roll, 

Have much instruction given ; 
But thy good word informs my soul 

How I may climb to heaven. 

The fields provide me food, and show 

The goodness of the Lord ; 
But fruits of life and glory grow 

In thy most holy "Word. 

Here are my choicest treasures hid, 

Here my best comfort lies ; 
Here my desires are satisfied, 

And hence my hopes arise. 

20 P 



306 DIVINE SONGS. 

Lord, make me understand thy law ; 

Show what my faults have been ; 
And from thy gospel let me draw 

Pardon for all my sin. 

Here would I learn how Christ has died 
To save my soul from hell : 

Not all the books on earth beside 
Such heavenly wonders tell. 

Then let me love my Bible more, 

And take a fresh delight 
By day to read these wonders o'er, 

And meditate by night. 

4i 



vm. 

PRAISE TO GOD FOR LEARNING TO 
READ. 

The praises of my tongue 

I offer to the Lord, 
That I was taught and learnt so young 

To read his holy Word. 

That I am brought to know 

The danger I was in, 
- By nature and by practice too, 
A wretched slave to sin. 



DIVINE SONGS. 307 

That I am led to see 

I can do nothing well ; 
And whither shall a sinner flee 

To save himself from hell ? 

Dear Lord, this book of thine 

Informs me where to go, 
For grace to pardon all my sin, 

And make me holy too. 

Here I can read, and learn 

How Christ, the Son of God, 
Has undertook our great concern ; 

Our ransom cost his blood. 

And now he reigns above, 

He sends his spirit down 
To show the wonders of his love, 

And make his gospel known. 

may that spirit teach. 

And make my heart receive 
Those truths which all thy servants preach, 

And all thy saints believe. 

Then shall I praise the Lord 

In a more cheerful strain. 
That I was taught to read his Word, 

And have not learnt in vain. « 



308 DIVINE SONGS. 

IX. 

THE ALL SEEE^G GOD. 

Almighty God ! thy piercing eye 
Strikes through the shades of night, 

And our most secret actions lie 
All open to thy sight. 

There 's not a sin that we commit, 

Nor wicked word we say, 
But in thy dreadful book 'tis writ, 

Against the judgment day. 

And must the crimes that I have done 
Be read and pubhshed there ? 

Be all expos'd before the sun, 
While men and angels hear ? 

Lord, at thy foot asham'd I lie ; 

Upward I dare not look ; 
Pardon my sins before I die. 

And blot them from thy book. 

Remember all the dying pains 

That my Redeemer felt. 
And let his blood wash out my stains. 

And answer for my guilt. 



DIVINE SONGS. 309 

O may I now for ever fear 

To indulge a sinful thought, 
Since the great God can see and hear, 

And writes down every fault. 



X. 

SOLEMN THOUGHTS OF GOD AND 
DEATH. 

There is a God that reigns above, 
Lord of the heavens, and earth and seas : 
I fear his wrath, I ask his love, 
And with my lips I sing his praise. 

There is a law which he has writ, 
To teach us all that we must do : 
My soul, to his commands submit. 
For they are holy, just, and true. 

There is a gospel of rich grace, 
Whence sinners all their comforts draw : 
Lord, I repent, and seek thy face ; 
For I have often broke thy law. 

There is an hour when I must die. 
Nor do I know how soon 'twill come : 
A thousand children, young as I, 
Are call'd by death to hear their doom. 



310 DIYINE SONGS. 

Let me improve the hours I have, 
Before the day of grace is fled ; 
There 's no repentance in the grave, 
Nor pardons offer'd to the dead. 

Just as a tree cut down, that fell 
To north or southward, there it lies ; 
So man departs to heaven or hell, 
Fix'd in the state wherein he dies. 



XL 

HEAVEN AND HELL. 

There is beyond the sky 
A heaven of joy and love ; 

And holy children, when they die, 
Go to that world above. 

There is a dreadful hell. 

And everlasting pains ; 
There sinners must with devils dwell 

In darkness, fire, and chains. 

Can such a wretch as I 

Escape this cursed end ? 
And may I hope whene'er I die, 

I shall to heaven ascend ? 



DIVINE SONGS. 311 



Then will I read and pray, 
While I have life and breath : 

Lest I should be cut off to-day, 
And sent to eternal death. 



xn. 

THE ADVANTAGES OP EARLY RELIGION 

Happy 's the child whose youngest years 

Receive instructions well : 
Who hates the sinner's path, and fears 

The road that leads to heU. 

When we devote our youth to God, 

'Tis pleasing in his eyes : 
A flower, when offer'd in the bud. 

Is no vain sacrifice. 

'Tis easier work if we begin 

To fear the Lord betimes ; 
While sinners that grow old in sin 

Are harden'd in their crimes. 

'Twill save us from a thousand snares, 

To mind religion young ; 
Grace will preserve our following years, 

And make our virtue strong. 



312 DIVINE SONGS. 

To thee, almighty God, to thee. 

Our childhood we resign ; 
'Twill please us to look back and see 

That our whole lives were thine. 

Let the sweet work of prayer and praise 
Employ my youngest breath ; 

Thus I'm prepar'd for longer days, 
Or fit for early death. 



xin. 
THE da:nger of delay. 

Why should I say, " 'Tis yet too soon 
" To seek for heaven or think of death ? " 
A flower may fade before 'tis noon. 
And I this day may lose my breath. 

If this rebellious heart of mine 
Despise the gracious calls of heaven, 
I may be harden'd in my sin. 
And never have repentance given. 

What if the Lord grow wroth, and swear, 
While I refuse to read and pray. 
That he '11 refuse to lend an ear 
To all my groans another day ? 



DIVINE SONGS. 313 

What if his dreadful anger burn, 
While I refuse his offer'd grace, 
And all his love to fury turn, 
And strike me dead upon the place ? 

'Tis dangerous to provoke a God ! 

His power and vengeance none can tell ; 

One stroke of his almighty rod 

Shall send young sinners quick to hell. 

Then 'twill for ever be in vain 
To cry for pardon and for grace : 
To wish I had my time again, 
Or hope to see my Maker's face. 



XIV. 
EXAMPLES OF EAELY PIETY. 

What bless'd examples do I find 

Writ in the word of truth. 
Of children that began to mind 

Religion in their youth. 

Jesus, who reigns above the sky. 
And keeps the world in awe. 

Was once a child as young as I, 
And kept his Father's law. 



314 DIVINE SONGS. 

At twelve years old he talk'd with men, 
(The Jews all wondering stood) 

Yet he obey'd his mother then, 
And came at her command. 

Children a sweet hosanna sung, 
And blest their Saviour's name ; 

They gave him honour with their tongue. 
While scribes and priests blaspheme. 

. Samuel the child was wean'd, and brought 
To wait upon the Lord ; 
Young Timothy byetimes was taught 
To know his holy Word. 

Then why should I so long delay 

What others learnt so soon ? 
I would not pass another day 

Without this work begun. 



XV. 

AGAINST LYING. 

'tis a lovely thing for youth 
To walk betimes in wisdom's way ; 
To fear a lie, to ^peak the truth, 
That we may trust to all they say. 



DIVINE SONGS. 315 

But liars we can never trust, 

Though they should speak the thing that 's true , 

And he that does one fault at first, 

And lies to hide it, makes it two. 

Have we not known, nor heard, nor read, 
How God abhors deceit and wrong ? 
How Ananias was struck dead, 
Catch'd with a lie upon his tongue ? 

So did his wife, Sapphira, die, 
When she came in and grew so bold 
As to confirm that wicked lie, 
That, just before, her husband told. 

The Lord delights in them that speak 
The words of truth ; but every liar 
Must have his portion in the lake 
That burns with brimstone and with fire. 

Then let me always watch my lips. 
Lest I be struck to death and hell, 
Since God a book of reck'ning keeps 
For every lie that children tell. 



316 DIVINE SONGS. 



XVI. 

AGAINST QUARRELLING AND FIGHTING. 

Let dogs delight to bark and bite, 

For God hath made them so; 
Let bears and lions growl and fight, 

For 'tis their nature too. 

But, children, you should never let 

Such angry passions rise ; 
Your little hands were never made 

To tear each other's eyes. 

Let love through all your actions run, 

And all your words be mild ; 
Live like the blessed virgin's Son, 

That sweet and lovely child. 

His soul was gentle as a lamb ; 

And as his stature grew, 
He grew in favour both with man. 

And God his Father too. 

Now, Lord of all, he reigns above. 
And from his heavenly throne 

He sees what children dwell in love, 
And marks them for his own. 



DIVINE SONGS. 317 



XVII. 



LOVE BETWEEN BROTHERS AND 
SISTERS. 

Whatever brawls disturb the street, 

There should be peace at home ; 
Where sisters dwell and brothers meet, 

Quarrels should never come. 

Birds in their little nests agree : 
And 'tis a shameful sight. 

When children of one family- 
Fall out, and chide, and fight. 

Hard names at first, and threat'ning words 

That are but noisy breath. 
May grow to clubs or naked swords. 

To murder and to death. 

The devil tempts one mother's son 

To rage against another ; 
So wicked Cain was hurried on 

Till he had kill'd his brother. 

The wise will make their anger cool, 

At least before 'tis night ; 
But in the bosom of a fool / 

It burns till morning light. ^ ^^,^^Y%, 



318 DIVINE SONGS. 

Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage, 
Our little brands remove ; 

That, as we grow to riper age, 
Our hearts may all be love. 



xvni. 

AGAINST SCOFFING AND CALLING 
NAMES. 

Our tongues were made to bless the Lord, 

And not speak ill of men ; 
When others give a railing word, 

We must not rail again. 

Cross words and angry names require 

To be chastis'd at school ; 
And he's in danger of hell-fire. 

That calls his brother, fool. 

But lips that dare be so profane, 

To mock, and jeer, and scoff, 
At holy things or holy men, 

The Lord shall cut them off. 

When children, in their wanton play, 

Serv'd old Elisha so ; 
And bid the prophet go his way, 

" Go up, thou baldhead, go : " 



DIVINE SONGS. 319 

God quickly stopp'd their wicked breath, 

And sent two raging bears, 
That tore them limb from limb to death. 

With blood, and groans, and tears. 

Great God, how terrible art thou 

To sinners ne'er so young ! 
Grant me thy grace, and teach me how 

To tame and rule my tongue. 



XIX. 

AGAINST SWEARING AND CURSING, AND 
TAKING GOD'S NAjVIE IN VAIN. 

Angels, that high in glory dwell, 
Adore thy name, Almighty God ! 

And devils tremble down in hell, 
Beneath the terrors of thy rod. 

And yet how wicked children dare 
Abuse thy dreadful glorious name ! 

And when they 're angry, how they swear. 
And curse their fellows, and blaspheme ! 

How will they stand before thy face. 
Who treated thee with such disdain, 

While thou shalt doom them to the place 
Of everlasting fire and pain ? 



320 DIVINE SONGS. 

Then never shall one cooling drop 

To quench their burning tongues be given ; 
But I will praise thee here, and hope 

Thus to employ my tongue in heaven. 

My heart shall be in pain to hear 
Wretches affront the Lord above : 

'Tis that Great God whose power I fear ; 
That heavenly Father whom I love. 

If my companions grow profane, 

I '11 leave their friendship, when I hear 

Young sinnej-s take thy name in vain, 
And learn to curse, and learn to swear. 



XX. 

AGAINST IDLENESS AND MISCHIEF. 

How doth the little busy bee 

Improve each shining hour. 
And gather honey all the day 

From every opening flower ! 

How skilfully she builds her cell ! 

How neat she spreads the wax ! 
And labors hard to store it well 

With the sweet food she makes. 



DIVINE SONGS. 321 

In works of labour or of skill, 

I would be busy too ; 
For Satan finds some mischief still 

For idle hands to do. 

In books, or work, or healthful play, 

Let my first years be past, 
That I may give for every day 

Some <?ood account at last. 



XXI. 

AGAmST EYTL COMPANY. 

Why should I join with those in play, 

In whom I 've no delight ; 
Who curse and swear, but never pray ; 

Who call ill names and fight ? 

I hate to hear a wanton song ; 

Their words offend my ears ; 
I should not dare defile my tongue 

With language such as their's. 

Away from fools I '11 turn my eyes, 

Nor with the scoffers go ; 
I would be walking with the wise, 

That wiser I may grow. 
21 



322 DIVINE SONGS. 

From one rude boy that us'd to mock, 
Then learn the wicked jest ; 

One sickly sheep infects the flock, 
And poisons all the rest. 

My God, I hate to walk, or dwell 
With sinful children here ; 

Then let me not be sent to hell. 
Where none but sinners are. ' 



xxn. 

AGAINST PRIDE IN CLOTHES. 

Why should our garments, made to hide 
Our parents' shame, provoke our pride ? 
The art of dress did ne'er begin. 
Till Eve, our mother, learn'd to sin. 

When first she put the covering on. 
Her robe of innocence was gone ; 
And yet her children vainly boast 
In the sad marks of glory lost. 

How proud we are ! how fond to shew ! 
Our clothes, and call them rich and new ! 
When the poor sheep and silkworm wore 
That very clothing long before. 



DIVINE SONGS. 323 

The tulip and the butterfly 

Appear in gayer coats than I ; 

Let me be drest fine as I will, 

Flies, worms, and flowers, exceed me still. 

Then will I set my heart to find 
Inward adornings of the mind ; 
Knowledge and virtue, truth and grace, 
These are the robes of richest dress. 

No more shall worms with me compare ; 
This is the raiment angels wear; 
The Son of God, when here below, 
Put on this blest apparel too. 

It never fades, it ne'er grows old. 
Nor fears the rain, nor moth, nor mould ; 
It takes no spot, but still refines ; 
The more 'tis worn, the more it shines. 

In this on earth would I appear, 
Then go to heaven and wear it there ; 
God will approve it in his sight, 
'Tis his own work, and his dehght. 



324 DIVINE SONGS. 



xxni. 

OBEDIENCE TO PARENTS. 

Let children that would fear the Lord 
Hear \Yhat their teachers say ; 

With reverence meet their parents' word, 
And with delight obey. 

Have not you heard what dreadful plagues 

Are threaten'd by the Lord, 
To him that breaks his father's law. 

Or mocks his mother's word ? 

What heavy guilt upon him lies ! 

How cursed is his name ! 
The ravens shall pick out his eyes. 

And eagles eat the same. 

But those who worship God, and give 

Their parents honour due, 
Here on this earth they long shall live, 

And live hereafter too. 



DIVINE SONGS. 325 



XXIV. 
THE CHILD'S COMPLAINT. 

Why should I love my sport so well ? 

So constant at my play ? 
And lose the thoughts of heaven and hell, 

And then forget to pray ? 

What do I read my Bible for, 

But, Lord, to learn thy will ? 
And shall I daily know thee more, 

And less obey thee still ? 

How senseless is my heart, and wild ! 

How vain are all my thoughts ! 
Pity the weakness of a child, 

And pardon all my faults ! 

Make me thy heavenly voice to hear. 

And let me love to pray, 
Since God will lend a gracious ear 

To what a child can say. 



326 DIVINE SONGS. 

XXV. 
A MORNING SONG. 

My God who makes the sun to know 

His proper hour to rise, 
And to give light to all below, 

Doth send him round the skies. 

When from the chambers of the east 
His morning race begins, 

He never tires, nor stops to rest ; 
But round the world he shines. 

So, like the sun, would I fulfil 
The business of the day : 

Begm my work betimes, and still 
March on my heavenly way. 

Give me, Lord, thy early grace, 
Nor let my soul complain 

That the young morning of my days 
Has all been spent in vain. 



DIVINE SONGS. 327 



XXVI. 
AN EVENING SONG. 

And now another day is gone, 

I 'U sing my maker's praise ; 
My comforts every hour make known, 

His providence and grace. 

But how my childhood runs to waste ! 

My sins, how great their sum ! 
Lord, give me pardon for the past, 

And strength for days to come. 

I lay my body down to sleep ; 

Let angels guard my head, 
And through the hours of darkness keep 

Their watch around my bed. 

With cheerful heart I close my eyes, 

Since thou wilt not remove ; 
And in the morning let me rise 

Rejoicing in thy love. 



328 DIVINE SONGS. 

xxvn. 

FOR THE LORD'S DAY MORNING. 

This is tlie day when Christ arose 

So early from the dead ; 
Why should I keep my eyelids clos'd, 

And waste my hours in bed ? 

This is the day when Jesus broke 
The powers of death and hell ; 

And shall I still wear Satan's yoke, 
And love my sins so well ? 

To-day with pleasure Christians meet, 
To pray and hear the Word : 

And I would go with cheerful feet 
To learn thy will, Lord. 

I '11 leave my sport, to read and pray. 
And so prepare for heaven : 

O may I love this blessed day. 
The best of all the seven ! 



DIVINE SONGS. 329 

XXVIII. 
FOR THE LORD'S DAY EVENING. 

LoKD, how delightful 'tis to see 

A whole assembly worship thee ! 

At once they sing, at once they pray ; 

They hear of heaven, and learn the way. 

I have been there, and still would go ; 
'Tis like a little heaven below : 
Not all my pleasure and my play 
Shall tempt me to forget this day, 

write upon my memory. Lord, 
The texts and doctrines of thy word ; 
That I may break thy laws no more. 
But love thee better than before. 

With thoughts of Christ and things divine 
Fill up this foolish heart of mine ; 
That hoping pardon through his blood, 

1 may lie down and wake with God. 



330 DIVINE SONGS. 



THE TEN COMMANDMENTS OUT OF THE 
OLD TESTAI^IENT, 

PUT INTO SHORT RHYME FOR CHILDREN 
EXODUS, CHAP. XX. 

1. Thou shalt have no more Gods but Me. 

2. Before no idol bow ihj knee. 

3. Take not the name of God in vain. 

4. Nor dare the Sabbath-day profane. 

5. Give both thy parents honour due. 

6. Take heed that thou no murder do. 

7. Abstain from words and deeds unclean. 

8. Nor steal, though thou art poor and mean. 

9. Nor make a wilful lie, nor love it. 

10. What is thy neighbour's dare not covet. 



THE SUM OF THE COMMANDMENTS, OUT 
OF THE NEW TESTA:MENT. 

MATTHEW, XXII. 37- 

With all thy soul love God above, 
And as thyself thy neighbor love. 



DIVINE SONGS. 331 



OUR SAVIOUR'S GOLDEN RULE. 

MATTHEW, VII. 12. 

Be you to others kind and true, 
As you 'd have others be to you ; 
And neither do nor say to men, 
Whate'er you would not take again, 



DUTY TO GOD AND OUR NEIGHBOUR. 

Love God with all your soul and strength, 

With all your heart and mind : 
And love your neighbour as yourself. 

Be faithful, just, and kind. 

Deal with another as you 'd have 

Another deal with you ; 
"What you 're unwilHng to receive, ' 

Be sure you never do. 



332 DIVINE SONGS. 



THE HOSANNA: 

OR, SALVATION ASCRIBED TO CHRIST.^ 
LONG METRE. 

Ho s ANNA to King David's Son, 
Who reigns on a superior throne : 
We bless the Prince of heavenly birth, 
Who brings salvation down on earth. 

Let every nation, every age. 
In this delightful work engage ; 
Old men and babes in Sion sing 
The growing glories of her King. 

COMMON METRE. 

Ho s ANNA to the Prince of grace ; 

Sion, behold thy king ! 
Proclaim the Son of David's race. 

And teach the babes to sing. 

1 Out of my Book of Hymns I have added the Hosanna, 
and '' Glory to the Father," &c., to be sung at the end of any 
of these Songs, according to the direction of Parents or Go- 
vernors. 



DIVINE SONGS. 333 

Hosanna to the eternal Word, 

Who from the Father came ; 
Ascribe salvation to the Lord, 

With blessings on his name. 

SHORT METRE. 

Hosanna to the Son 

Of David and of God, 
Who brought the news of pardon down. 

And bought it with his blood. 

To Christ the anointed King, 

Be endless blessings given ; 
Let the whole earth his glory sing, 

Who made our peace with heaven. 



GLORY TO THE FATHER AND THE 

SON, &c. 

LONG METRE. 

To God the Father, God the Son, 
And God the Spirit, Three in One ; 
Be honour, praise, and glorj given. 
By all on earth, and all in heaven. 



334 DIVINE SONGS. 



COMMON METRE. 



Now let the Father and the Son 

And Spirit be ador'd, 
Where there are works to make him known, 

Or saints to love the Lord. 



SHORT METRE. 



Give to the Father praise, 
Give glory to the Son, 

And to the Spirit of his grace 
Be equal honour done. 



A SLIGHT SPECIMEN OF 

MORAL SONGS, 

SUCH AS I WISH SOME HAPPY AND CONDESCENDING GE- 
NIUS WOULD UNDEKTAKE FOB THE USE OF CHILDREN, 
AND PERFORM MUCH BETTER. 



The sense and subjects might be borrowed plentifullj'- from 
the Proverbs of Solomon, from all the common appearances 
of nature, from all the occurrences in the civil life, both in city 
and country, (which would also afford matter for other divine 
songs.) Here the language and measures should be easy, and 
flowing with cheerfulness, with or without the solemnities of 
religion, or the sacred names of God and holy things ; that 
children might find delight and profit together. 

This would be one effectual way to dehver them from the 
temptation of loving or learning those idle, wanton, or profane 
songs, which give so early an ill taint to the fancy and me- 
morv ; and become the seeds of future vices. 



MOEAL SONGS. 

I. 

THE SLUGGARD. 



'Tis the voice of the sluggard ; I heard him com- 
plain, 

" You have vt^aked me too soon, I must slumber 
again." 

As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, 

Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy 
head. 

" A little more sleep, and a little more slumber ; " 
Thus he wastes half his days and his hours with- 
out number ; 
And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands, 
Or walks about saunt'ring, or trifling he stands. 

I pass'd by his garden, and saw the wild brier. 
The thorn and the thistle grow broader and 

higher ; 
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags ; 
And his money still wastes, till he starves, or he 

begs. 

22 



338 MORAL SONGS. 

I made him a visit, still hoping to find 
He had took better care for improving his mind : 
He told me his dreams, talk'd of eating and drink- 
ing ; 
But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves 
thinking. 

Said I then to my heart, " Here 's a lesson for me," 
That man 's but a picture of what I might be ; 
But thanks to my friends for their care in my 

breeding ; 
Who taught me betimes to love working and read- 



II. 
INNOCENT PLAY. 

Abroad in the meadows, to see the young lambs 
Eun sporting about by the side of their dams, 

With fleeces so clean and so white ; 
Or a nest of young doves in a large open cage. 
When they play all in love, without anger or 
rage. 

How much we may learn from the sight ! 

If we had been ducks we might dabble in mud ; 
Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood ; 
So foul and so fierce are their natures : 



MORAL SONGS. 339 

But Thomas and William, and sucli pretty names, 
Should be cleanly and harmless as doves or as 
lambs. 
Those lovely sweet innocent creatures. 

Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we say. 
Should injure another in jesting or play ; 

For he 's still in earnest that 's hurt ; 
How rude are the boys that throw pebbles and 

mire ! 
There 's none but a madman will fling about fire, 

And tell you, " 'Tis all but in sport." 



m. 

THE EOSE. 

HoTV fair is the rose ! what a beautiful flower ! 

The glory of April and May ! 
But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, 

And they wither and die in a day. 

Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast, 
Above all the flowers of the field ; 

When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are 
lost, 
Still how sweet a perfume it will yield ! 



340 MOllAL SONGS. 

So frail is the youth and the beauty of man, 
Though they bloom and look gay like the rose: 

But all our fond care to preserve them is vain ; 
Time kills them as fast as he goes. 

Then I '11 not be proud of my youth or my beauty, 
Since both of them wither and fade : 

But gain a good name by well-doing my duty ; 
This will scent, like a rose, when I 'm dead. 



IV 

THE THIEF. 

Why should I deprive my neighbour 
Of his goods against his will ? 

Hands were made for honest labour, 
Not to plunder or to steal. 

'Tis a foolish self-deceiving 

By such tricks to hope for gain : 

All that 's ever got by thieving 
Turns to sorrow, shame, and pain. 

Have not Eve and Adam taught us 
Their sad profit to compute ? 

To what dismal state they brought us 
When they stole forbidden fruit ? 



MORAL SONGS. 341 

Oft we see a young beginner 

Practise little pilfering ways, 
Till grown up a harden'd sinner, 

Then the gallows ends his days. 

Theft will not be always hidden. 
Though we fancy none can spy: 

When we take a thing forbidden, 
God beholds it with his eye. 

Guard my heart, God of heaven. 

Lest I covet what 's not mine : 
Lest I steal what is not given. 

Guard my heart and hands from sin. 



Y. 
THE A:NT, or EMMET. 

These emmets, how little they are in our eyes ! 
We tread them to dust, and a troop of them dies. 

Without our regard or concern ; 
Yet as wise as we are, if we went to their school, 
There 's many a sluggard and many a fool, 

Some lessons of wisdom might learn. 

They don't wear their time out in sleeping or play, 
But gather up corn in a sunshiny day, 

And for winter they lay up their stores : 



342 MORAL SONGS. 

They manage their work in such regular forms, 
One would think they foresaw all the frost and 
the storms, 
And so brought their food within doors. 

But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant, 
If I take no due care for the things I shall want, 

Nor provide against dangers in time, 
When death or old age shall stare in my face. 
What a wretch shall I be in the end of my days, 

If I trifle away all their prime ! 

Now, now, while my strength and my youth are 

in bloom. 
Let me think what will serve me Avhen sickness 
shall come. 
And pray that my sins be forgiven. 
Let me read in good books, and believe, and obey, 
That when death turns me out of this cottage of 
clay, 
I may dwell in a palace in heaven. 



MORAL SONGS. 343 



VI. 
GOOD RESOLUTIONS. 

Though I am now in younger days, 
Nor can tell what shall befall me, 

I'll prepare for every place, 

Where my growing age shall call me. 

Should I e'er be rich or great, 

Others shall partake my goodness; 

I '11 supply the poor with meat. 
Never showing scorn or rudeness. 

Where I see the blind or lame. 

Deaf or dumb, I '11 kindly treat them ; 

I deserve to feel the same 

If I mock, or hurt, or cheat them. 

If I meet with railing tongues, 

Why should I return them railing ? 

Since I best revenge my wrongs, 
By my patience never failing. 

When I hear them telling lies, 

Talking foolish, cursing, swearing ; 

First I '11 try to make them wise, 
Or I '11 soon go out of hearing. 



344 MORAL SONGS. 

What though I be low and mean, 
I '11 engage the rich to love me, 

While I 'm modest, neat, and clean, 
And submit when they reprove me. 

If I should be poor and sick, 
I shall meet, I hope, with pity. 

Since I love to help the weak, 

Though they 're neither fair nor witty. 

I '11 not willingly offend. 

Nor be easily offended ; 
What 's amiss I '11 strive to mend, 

And endure what can't be mended. 

May I be so watchful still 

O'er my humours and my passion. 

As to speak and do no ill, 

Though it should be all the fashion : 

Wicked fashions lead to hell ; 

Ne'er may I be found complying ; 
But in life behave so well. 

Not to be afraid of dying. 



MORAL SONGS. 345 



VII. 

A SIJIIMER EVENING. 

How fine has the day been, how bright was the 

sun, 
How lovely and joyful the course that he run, 
Though he rose m a mist when his race he begun, 

And there followed some droopings of rain ! 
But now the fair traveller 's come to the west, 
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best ; 
He paints the skies gay as he sinks to his rest. 

And foretells a bright rising again. 

Just such is the Christian : His course he begins, 
Like the sun in a mist, while he mourns for his 

sins. 
And melts into tears: then he breaks out and 

shines, 
And travels his heavenly way : 
But when he comes nearer to finish his race, 
Like a fine setting sun he looks richer in grace. 
And gives a sure hope at the end of his days 
Of rising in brighter array. 



346 A CRADLE HYMN. 



A CRADLE HYMN. 

Some copies of the following Hymn having got abroad already 
into several hands, the author has been persuaded to per- 
mit it to appear in public at the end of these Songs for 
Children. 



Hush ! my dear, lie still, and slumber. 
Holy angels guard thy bed ! 

Heavenly blessings without number 
Gently falling on thy head. 

Sleep, my babe ; thy food and raiment, 
House and home thy friends provide ; 

All without thy care or payment, 
All thy wants are well supplied. 

How much better thou 'rt attended 
Than the Son of God could be. 

When from heaven he descended. 
And became a child like thee ? 

Soft and easy is thy cradle : 

Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay : 

"When his birthplace was a stable. 
And his softest bed was hay. 



A CRADLE HYMN. 347 

Blessed babe ! what glorious features, 

Spotless, fair, divinely bright ! 
Must he dwell with brutal creatures ! 

How could angels bear the sight ? 

Was there nothing but a manger 

Cursed sinners could afford, 
To receive the heavenly Stranger ? 

Did they thus affront their Lord ? 

Soft, my child ; I did not chide thee, 
Though my song might sound too hard ; 

And her arms shall be thy guard. 

Yet to read the shameful story, 
How the Jews abus'd their King, 
^ How they serv'd the Lord of glory. 
Makes me angry while I sing. 

See the kinder shepherds round him, 
Telling wonders from the sky ! 

There they sought him, there they found him. 
With his virgin mother by. 

See the lovely Babe a-dressing ; 
Lovely Infant, how he smil'd ! 

iHere you may use the words, brother, sister, neighbour, 
friend, &c. 



348 A CRADLE HYMN. 

When lie wept, the mother's blessing 
Sooth'd and hush'd the holy Child. 

Lo, he slumbers in his manger, 
Where the horned oxen feed ; 

Peace, my darling, here 's no danger, 
Here 's no ox a-near thy bed. 

'Twas to save thee, child, from dying, 
Save my dear from burning flame. 

Bitter groans and endless crying, 
That thy blest Redeemer came. 

Mayst thou live to know and fear him. 
Trust and love him all thy days ; 

Then go dwell for ever near him, 
See his face and sing his praise ! 

I could give thee thousand kisses, 
Hoping what I most desire ; 

Not a mother's fondest wishes 
Can to greater joys aspire. 



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